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xcertaindarkthingsx · 4 years ago

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make you mine

pairing: jealous!mando x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now as a healer and caretaker for the Child. one day, the Mandalorian needs your specific skills to help him catch a bounty, and needless the say he is NOT happy about it.

warnings: two idiots that don’t know they like each other, some fluff and yearning, a smidge of possessiveness/jealousy, canon-typical violence, swearing in basic and mando’a, brief mentions of unwanted touching, mentions of taking care of injuries/stitching and blood, SMUT 18+ (minors BEGONE), porn w/ plot i guess, thigh riding, finger sucking, grinding, a lil’ dirty talk (if i miss any just please let me know!)

word count: 7.6k (i’m soRRY)

a/n: WHEW OK so i originally wrote this for #dincember but because i suck at deadlines and take forever to write it just turned into something else. reader is a lil insecure but mando makes it all better (self-projection, anyone?) ummm, this is my first time writing for din AND my first time writing smut but i hope you guys like it! comments/likes/reblogs/feedback are completely welcome and much appreciated! i apologize if this is a mess kladjflkd but shoutout to @a-dorin and @princessxkenobi for being wonderful beta readers and helping me when i got stuck. i am planning on making this a two parter, so if you want to be added to my tag list let me know! if you prefer to read on ao3 you can do so here . mando’a translations at the end!

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Soft coos filled the air inside the Razor Crest as you desperately tried to rock the Child back to sleep. You were almost certain he was starting to get hungry, but you were out of snacks and Mando had told you not to leave the ship under any circumstances.

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now, after being picked up on Arvala-7. You were a healer—a pretty damn good one, if you had anything to say about it—and had patched him up after a bounty hunt gone wrong.

The Mandalorian thought your services would be helpful if things ever got a little dicey again, so he asked you along for the ride (the reality was you had nagged and scolded him so much about how cauterizing was not the answer for every wound, that he eventually caved just to get you to stop). There wasn’t really anything tying you to Arvala-7, so you agreed.

Plus, the Child had taken a real liking to you, and how could you say no to that precious face?

The Mandalorian was an odd man—well, no. Not odd. More like intriguing, and you were drawn to it. It had been quiet and awkward the first few months. He was a rigid man of few words, never speaking more than necessary (unless he thought he was alone with the kid; the way he spoke with him made your heart melt). But after countless late nights together of taking care of the Child and constantly tending to his injuries, you were surprised to find there was a sense of gentleness under all that beskar.

The Mandalorian had been just as surprised as you when he found himself warming up to your presence. It was all the little moments that had snuck up on him, the stolen glances and lingering touches, and now his heartbeat seemed to quicken every time you were together.

Little did he know, yours did too.

At the sound of the hatch door opening, you looked up. You watched as the Mandalorian walked up the platform, admiring his strut. How someone could look so good just walking, you had no idea, but it was maddening.

“No bounty?” you called out, turning the kid in your arms so he would be facing out towards his dad. It was unusual that Mando hadn’t found the target yet, but you were just thankful he was in one piece for now. He shook his head.

“Not yet. I ran into some… complications,” he huffed and even though his voice was laced with frustration, it put you at ease. Being on the ship alone for nearly the whole day, sometimes you just missed hearing that husky baritone filtering through his modulator.

Not to mention you thought it was sexy as hell.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Complications?”

He heaved a deep sigh, lifting a hand for the Child to grab, which he took happily. “Hey, kid,” he whispered, and you smiled as the Child babbled back. Mando turned his helmet towards you and continued. “Yes, but I found a contact who should be able to give more information. I came back for you and the kid first. I know you guys must be hungry.”

You nodded at the same time the little green bean gave a resounding coo, earning a soft chuckle from the both of you. “I’ll get the pram ready.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After a quick stop in the marketplace for supplies, Mando had led you two into what seemed to be the only bar in town. It was only late afternoon, leaving it nearly empty, save for a few older patrons lazily sipping on glasses of ale. You ignored the way the Weequay behind the bar seemed to look you up and down.

Mando set you and the kid up with two bowls of soup at a table nearby while he talked business with his contact, who happened to be the bartender. Sipping your soup, you tried not to eavesdrop as the two began to fall into what you would call a heated discussion. On Mando’s end. Apparently, this was a particularly “difficult” target.

“Lucky for you, he’s got an eye for pretty girls,” the bartender drawled, jutting his chin at you. “She’ll do fine.”

Your head snapped up from your task of feeding the child, spoon mid-air. “Excuse me?”

“No. Absolutely not,” resounded Mando’s gruff voice from under the helmet.

“Listen, Mando. This guy is high-profile, practically untouchable, bodyguards with him at all times. And I’m not talkin’ your run of the mill pair of idiots that can’t shoot for a damn, I’m talkin’ highly trained mercenaries.” The Weequay sighed. “I don’t doubt your skills as a Mandalorian, but you’re just one man. You need to get him alone, and she is your only way of doing that,” he insisted.

“I said, no,” Mando gritted out. You were non-negotiable.

The bartender just shrugged. “Then consider this a loss, cause you’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Your heart hammered in your chest listening to the two of them argue. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks, remembering the way the bartender eyed you when you walked in. All you wanted to do at this point was bury yourself in the confines of your room in the Razor Crest.

Mando seemed final in his decision, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t want you involved or if he thought you simply lacked the skills to do so. He could probably tell you weren’t really the seducing type, and truthfully the thought of trying to do was mortifying.

But Mando needed this, right? You thought of all the things he’s done for you, how he’s protected and provided for you. This was the least you could do for him. You could deal with one night of potential discomfort so he could get his bounty. It was a lot of credits.

“I’ll do it.”

Mando snapped his head around at you so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t hurt himself. “For the last time, I said you are no—”

“I’m doing it,” you said a little more forcefully, cutting him off. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring daggers into you from underneath the helmet, but it was going to take more than a dirty look to get you to change your mind.

“Excellent!” the bartender’s cheery voice cut through the tension in the room. “Come on back, I’ve got an old dress an ex-girlfriend left behind that you could probably use.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The dress in question was a slinky black number that had you freezing your ass off in the cold of the desert night.

The dress was too… everything. Too short, too revealing, too tight; but the only other thing you had to wear were some oversized t-shirts and utility pants, which aren’t exactly sexy, so you were shit out of luck.

Mando nearly choked when you came out of your room, thankful for the helmet for hiding his widened eyes and agape mouth. You looked absolutely ravishing, the black fabric clinging to all the right places on your figure. His eyes roved over the valley of your chest, the curve of your hips, the length of your legs, and his hands balled into fists, just aching to hold you. It’s as if your skin was begging to be touched.

You cleared your throat, feeling incredibly exposed and wondering what in the blazes Mando was looking at because you were certain you looked absolutely ridiculous. The noise shook him out of whatever daze he was in and he quickly shifted his gaze.

“Not a word,” you warned, wobbling down the platform. As bad as the dress was, the heels it came with were somehow worse. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You shouldn’t,” he answered a little too quickly. “You look…” words were lost on him as he tried to find the right one. One that wouldn’t make it obvious that he was losing his kriffing mind in front of you. “Good,” he finally decided on, and mentally kicked himself for it. Good?

You gave him an exasperated look. “I know you’re just being nice.”

He opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by an ill-timed fit of babbling from the kid. You had bent down as best you could to give him a little pat on the head and he could feel a lump forming in his throat.

Mando couldn’t express how much he didn’t want you to do this. And well, he tried. The whole way back to the ship, in fact. But for some reason you were completely hell-bent on doing this for him, and he didn’t know how to explain that you and your safety meant more to him than a few thousand credits.

The reality was, Mando wanted you. He never thought he’d be so fond for someone besides the Child, but you were the exception. And even though he wanted to make you his, he knew it would be selfish of him to pursue you, to claim you, when he couldn’t give you everything you deserved; his Creed prevented him from doing so.

But Mando was a greedy man, so he took what he could get. He drank up all the kindness you so freely gave him, like a parched soul wandering in the desert, and cherished every little moment the two of you shared. They probably meant nothing to you, but they were everything to him. And he wanted more.

Not only was he a greedy man, but a stingy one as well. The thought of anyone other than him seeing you in that dress was enough to send his thoughts into a jealous frenzy.

“You don’t have to do this,” he tried to reason again.

You placed a gentle hand on the soft spot between his pauldron and neck and offered a small smile. “Don’t worry, Mando. Everything will be fine.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everything was, in fact, not fine.

The night had started well enough. After all of Mando’s failed attempts at dissuading you again, he had finally resigned to silently stewing in his disapproval rather than voicing it.

You entered the bar while he stayed behind and watched closely from the outside. He had given you a comms device, that, with the push of a button, would let him know you were alone with the bounty and it was time for him to step in.

“Just press it, and I will be right there,” he assured, his gloved fingers pressing the device firmly into your bare palm. Something about the protective tone of his voice stirred something in you. You nodded before looking away, trying to ignore your racing heart.

The bar was rowdy that night, patrons hooting and howling from the booze. The smell of stale spice and death sticks wafted in the air, making you wrinkle your nose. Your newfound bartender friend had waved you over, pointing out the target with a nod of his head.

Your eyes fell on a Pantoran man across the bar with a drink in his hand, dozens of black suits surrounding him. His associates—a Rodian and another Pantoran—seemed to all be talking business. The bartender wasn’t kidding about this guy’s security.

How the hell am I supposed to get this guy’s attention? You desperately racked your head for subtle ideas but came to a halt when his eyes met yours. Kriff, he had caught you staring. So much for subtle. Trying not to panic, you flashed your best coy smile before turning back towards the bar.

Somehow, that was enough to give him the courage to approach you.

Cocky bastard, you thought as he swaggered on up to you, leaning in close, leering. With his chiseled features and striking yellow markings, you would’ve called him handsome— if you didn’t already know what a sleazebag he was. An air of arrogance surrounded him, the type that made him think he could get whatever he wanted with a flash of those pearly whites. Typical douche. You wanted to smack him for being so close.

Instead, you flashed another winning smile. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you leaned in close and with a breathy whisper of, ‘Let’s get out of here’ he was tossing credits to the bartender and signaling to his guards that he was leaving with you.

The Weequay had shot you a knowing look as he watched you leave; a warning. You assured him that everything was fine with a slight nod of your head.

The asshole had his arm snaked around you, hand on your ass, as you made your way to the motel just across the street. You fought back the urge to throttle him, instead fawning about how, ‘I can’t wait to be alone with you, darling.’

Your hands began to clam up as he retrieved the keys from the clerk, and you tried to convince yourself that everything would be fine once you clicked the button on your comm from the inside of the room.

Wrong.

Immediately after the Pantoran locked the door, the unease in your stomach began to grow. Bile rose in your throat at his grinning face, the way he fidgeted and licked his lips as he pressed you into the wall. A hand landed on your bare thigh, trailing dangerously high, where you shuddered in disgust at the feeling.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he whispered, and that was your cue to press the comms device you were desperately clutching in your small purse. Your mistake was failing to mask the faint beeping noise it emitted. Your companion stiffened at the sound, pressing you further into the wall.

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled, using the other hand to rip your arm from your purse. He stared at the comms device with contempt, before turning his attention back to me. “You bi—”

He never got to finish, because the next thing you knew your Mandalorian was crashing through the door, blaster in hand.

The scene Mando had walked in on nearly made him sick. That osi’kovid’s hands all over you, and worst of all, the look of pure fear on your face after being made. He’d planned to put a quick end to the whole ordeal, but the bounty had plans of his own.

Mando rushed him, shoving him into the wall and away from you. As expected, the Pantoran went flying before crumpling onto the floor. What Mando hadn’t been expecting was for him to be armed. He didn’t peg him as the type to get his hands dirty.

The Mandalorian was about to release the fibercord whip from his vambrace when the bounty rose from the floor with a sneer, a small combat knife in hand as he lunged at Mando, before wrestling him to the floor and sending his blaster skittering.

You watched in frozen horror as the two fought for the upper hand. At one point, the bounty had tried to charge at you, slashing wildly, but Mando was already there blocking his blows. The knife caught on the cowl above his chest, slicing the skin underneath with a sickening noise. That seemed to kick your brain into overdrive, and you dived for the fallen blaster on the ground.

You took a steadying breath before you aimed and shot once, twice, at the bounty’s leg. He cried out from his place above Mando before clutching his leg and finally falling over.

Mando rose and immediately released the fibercord, imprisoning the bounty. He held his hand out for his blaster, and you watched with wide eyes as he smacked the butt of it into the Pantoran’s face once, twice, three times. The third time ended with an appalling crack, his head lolling forward, and leaving him unconscious.

You stared as Mando stood in front of the bounty, seething. You could have sworn his hands were shaking.

“Stars, Mando, your neck,” you murmured, breathless. The room was dim, but you could see the dark stain of blood that was beginning to drench his cowl. Your hands went to inspect the wound, but he quickly brushed you off.

“We need to go,” he grunted, gathering the rope and heading towards the back entrance of the room. The two of you hadn’t exactly been quiet and the bounty’s guards were bound to notice their boss had been gone for too long. When you had opened your mouth to argue, to insist that you needed to check his injuries, he was already out the door.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you walked back towards the ship. You pulled your arms tight across your body in an attempt to quell your trembling hands; guilt, bubbling up in your stomach as you replayed the events of the night in your head.

You had been the one to volunteer yourself for the mission.

You were the one who had repeatedly insisted that everything would be fine.

And now, your Mandalorian was bleeding profusely from a nasty wound on his neck.

“Mando,” you pleaded, trying to keep up with him in your ridiculous heels. Instead of acknowledging you, your words fell to deaf ears. He was stomping his way back to the ship, the unconscious bounty in tow.

Worry bloomed in your chest. The wound had looked bad back at the motel, but it was as if he couldn’t even feel it. You could hear his ragged breathing from behind; whether it was from the fight, the long walk, or the wound, you weren’t sure.

“Mando,” you tried again, this time raising your voice as you approached the hatch of the ship.

Nothing.

He let out another grunt as he hauled the bounty onto the ship, towards the carbon-freezing machine. You pursed your lips, jaw clenching in his direction. You did not appreciate being ignored, especially after just half-saving his ass just moments before.

Granted, you were the one that had put him in that position, but that was besides the point.

His back was to you and you stepped closer, ready to unleash a piece of your damn mind, when you stopped. You took in his brooding stance and clenched fists. The tremble in his hands. Anger seemed to roll off the Mandalorian in waves, making you falter.

What the hell was his problem?

“Mando, can you kriffing listen to me? I need to treat you, you have no idea if he nicked an important artery or something. I don’t know what you’re so worked up about, but you’ve been bleeding for a few minutes now and I just need to look—” annoyance rose in you as he continued to prep the carbon machine. “Maker, can you even hear me?”

The Mandalorian couldn’t hear you, not clearly anyways. Blood was still rushing in his ears, his vision still tinged red. But with another call of his name, you were finally able to get through and he suddenly whipped around.

“He touched you,” he gritted out, seething and shaking. “That skanah had his hands all over you and I swear if I didn’t need him alive for the bounty, he’d already be dead.” He punctuated the last word with the slam of a button on the machine.

You took a step back, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Something warm tightened in your chest and belly. Wh-why did he care so much? A lump had lodged itself into your throat. “Mando, I—I’m fine. Alright? I’m okay,” you tried to assure. “So, can you please calm down and let me just—"

But the Mandalorian already had his back turned again. You threw your hands up in the air, groaning in frustration as he continued to work. Another minute passed and with a faint whoosh, the bounty was finally set in carbonite.

A shiver ran through your body as the cool night air blew its way into the Razor Crest, raising goosebumps on your exposed skin. Seeing you tremble in the cold seemed to break Mando out of whatever angry stupor he was in.

In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to ignore you, but something in him snapped back at the motel. The image of that skanah touching you had made his blood boil, and his sole goal was to get him back to the ship and be done with it.

“You’re… cold,” he stated, the words coming out slow and soft, like pulling them out of a dream. You must have been freezing in that dress.

Your head snapped up at him. “I—what?”

“Let me get you a blanket or—” He hesitated when he saw you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut.

You couldn’t believe this idiot.

“Mando, seriously?” Your heart and your brain were having a hard time deciding whether you should be flattered about him caring so much or pissed off because he didn’t seem to give a damn about himself.

You chose a mix of the two.

“Mando,” you sighed, looking up at him. “I promise you I’m fine, thank you. Really.” You gave him your most genuine, caring look to show you were thankful for his concern, and then quickly replaced it with a hard one. “But if you don’t get up into that cockpit right now and let me treat you, I’m going to use that damn pulse rifle on you.”

And just like that, you had managed to dissolve the lingering traces of anger in his mind. His lips twitched under the helmet. “That supposed to scare me?”

You glared. “Don’t push it.” You could have sworn he was laughing under there.

The Mandalorian would have laughed if the wound on his neck hadn’t began to ache. Instead, he begrudgingly nodded, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before disappearing into the cockpit.

He began to input the coordinates back to Nevarro into the navicomputer, warmth unfurling in his chest as he listened to you check on the Child. A tiredness had begun to settle in his muscles from the fight earlier, and he grimaced as he reached for a lever on the control panel. The pain on his neck was getting worse, and if he was being honest it burned like all hell, but he was not going to admit that to you.

The door behind him slid open and you stepped in frazzled, medkit in hand. Even with your hair in disarray and scrapes littering your arms and legs, he thought you looked breathtaking.

“Uh, so bad news,” you began, gesturing at the medkit. “They didn’t have any at the market earlier, so we’re out of bacta shots and spray. I’m gonna have to stitch it closed depending on how deep it is.” You shot him an apologetic look.

He nodded, putting in the last of the coordinates before removing his chest plate to give you easier access, and turning his chair to face you. You closed the space between the two of you, quickly going to work. Careful hands began to peel away at the fabric stuck to the wound, a hiss of pain at the tip of his tongue as you ripped off the last of it.

“Sorry,” you whispered, inspecting the fabric before discarding it. “You’re definitely gonna need a new cape.”

He shrugged. “At least now you’ve got a new blanket.” You always had a habit of curling up into all his old stuff.

With a smile, you returned your focus to the task at hand, mentally sighing in relief as you began to clean the wound. It could have been worse, but it was still very deep. An inch to the left and just a smidge higher, and you would have had quite the problem on your hands.

“Idiot,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Lucky,” you corrected, biting back a smirk. “You got lucky. Any higher and this would be a lot messier.” You tossed the last of the gauze out and prepared the needle and thread.

Mando took in your awkward stance as you tried to bend down and begin stitching. Standing was fine for when you were cleaning, but for something this intricate it wasn’t the best position. You cursed and tried again, trying to get the angle right, but it was no use. The thought left his mouth before he even had a chance to filter it.

“You can sit on me if that’s easier.”

Heat blazed on your cheeks at his words, nearly dropping the damn needle. “Oh—um—” Coherent thoughts didn’t seem to be forming in your head at the moment.

Panic flooded the Mandalorian’s brain as he took in your shocked expression and realized his mistake. “I—well, not like that—what I meant was—” he spluttered, trying to find the right words, thankful that his helmet hid his mortified expression.

“No, no it’s okay I—I know what you meant,” you managed to choke out after picking your jaw up off the floor. It would have been comical—the certain and capable bounty hunter struggling to regain his composure—but his words had flooded your mind with some less than innocent thoughts and images, ones that left you heated and flustered. You swallowed hard in an attempt to relieve your suddenly very dry throat. “I can, if you’re okay with it?”

He slowly nodded, mentally kicking himself for being so daft. He held his breath as you stepped closer, bracing a hand low on his chest as you perched yourself on his lap. You cursed, trying to your best to maneuver yourself onto him without being inappropriate.

Finally, you were situated, hovering precariously over his thigh. You breathed deep, willing your mind and body to calm down. Being in such close proximity to the Mandalorian was… dizzying, but you had a job to do. And so, you went to work.

A few minutes in, Mando could feel the tension rolling off your body, the tremble of your thighs as you tried to hold yourself above him. “You can sit if you need to.”

The thought had crossed your mind, but truthfully you were afraid of how your body would react if you did. Eventually you gave in, shivering at the cold kiss of beskar on the insides of your thighs as you straddled his leg. A knot was forming in your belly, low and warm.

Maker, help me, you thought.

The change in position had slid your dress higher and Mando’s eyes began to wander again, taking in the exposed skin where your dress had hiked itself up, the material bunching around your hips. His hands felt that pull again, that ache to touch you; to dig his fingers into the soft, plump flesh.

Osik, he cursed, trying to control himself. In his mind he conjured up the image of a blaster, mentally taking it apart and putting it back together as a pitiful attempt at a distraction.

You had fallen into a steady rhythm of stitching and knotting, your hands absentmindedly working. The Mandalorian had fallen into a dull haze in the wake of your delicate touches, despite the sting and pull of the needle. But when your hands brushed the edge of his helmet, he snapped to attention, reflexes kicking in.

A strong hand had immediately encircled your wrist, forcefully locking it in place. Your breath seized at the realization of your colossal fuck-up. How could you be so stupid?

“Shit, shit, I—I’m sorry,” you stammered out. “Mando, I—I promise I wasn’t going to take it off, I just needed to adjust it to get the needle under.” Your heart thundered against your chest, and you swear you could hear it in the empty silence of the cockpit. The iron-clad grip he had on your wrist was starting to hurt, biting into your skin.

Mando saw the flash of fear in your eyes, the way you had flinched at his touch and loosened the grip on your hand. Regret began to bubble up inside him. He opened his mouth to apologize, it had just been his instincts, but you beat him to it. Your next words caught him off guard.

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed hard. Of course he did. There was no question about it. You were the one constant in his life besides the kid; the one he found he could rely on time and time again for anything. You had never betrayed him, in Creed or otherwise. He took a steadying breath before answering. “Yes.”

You tried to ignore the burst of warmth in your chest at his admission and what it implied. Instead, you nodded, slowly allowing yourself to move again and continue your care. “Lean back,” you whispered and he obliged, fully baring his neck to you. It was a vulnerable position, but the cautious movements of your hands crushed any anxiety that threatened to well up in him.

And maybe it was that cautious, careful touch that had begun to wear down his walls; the tenderness you so freely gave that softened his heart and opened him up. He wanted to make up the last minute to you, to show that he really did trust you. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop the next thing that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Din.”

You paused mid-stitch, confusion flickering on your face. “What’d you say?”

His heart felt like it was going to fly out of his ribcage. “My name. It’s Din.”

Confusion slowly morphed to shock at his revelation. He had just shared his name with you; something incredibly personal and dear to him. Knowing it felt… intimate. How many people actually knew his real name? You couldn’t stop that slow smile that had begun to spread on your face.

“Din,” you repeated, hushed as if someone else would hear. His heart skipped at the sound of his name on your lips; the soft way your voice curled around the short syllable. Your eyes peered into his through the visor of his helmet, a question behind them. “Just ‘Din’?”

“Din Djarin,” he corrected.

You repeated it again, delight clear on your face. “I like it.”

I do too, he thought. Especially when you say it. “You can use it whenever, as long as we’re alone or it’s just the kid.”

“Of course,” you nodded, then added a soft, “Thank you.” For trusting me.

The two of you had settled back into a comfortable silence, his hands resting comfortably on your hips, and Din couldn’t fathom why you kept biting back a smile. You were the first to break it.

“I’m sorry, for all this.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that painful.”

You shook your head. “No, I mean—” you gestured at his neck and then to you. “He was aiming for me.”

He scoffed. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let anything happen to you.” You could hear the anger beginning to simmer beneath his words again. “No, I… I would protect you every single time. Besides, that osi’yaim got what he deserved in the end.”

Your eyes flicked to his visor again and you tried to ignore the way the knot in your belly tightened at his promise to you and the shiver his low voice sent down your spine. Instead, you tried to change the subject. “Osi’yaim?”

“A useless, despicable person. A waste of space.”

A soft laugh escaped you lips. “You need to teach more Mando’a. Something besides the bad words.”

Din’s heart clenched at your request. Something about you asking to learn his language stirred something deep in him. “Of course,” he managed to reply, but it came out more strangled than he had meant it to.

You continued with your task, getting lost in the repeated movements of your fingers.

Watching you work had always fascinated Din. You granted each injury the same amount of attention, whether it was as small as a papercut or as big as the gash he had now. It was endearing. The meticulous way you ensured every stitch, every bandage, was perfect and in place. The adept movements of your fingers, steady with every touch. The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow as you concentrated.

He was captivated by it, and you, every time.

His gaze was concealed by his helmet most of the time, but tonight you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. Your cheeks began to burn at the thought of him staring at you so closely and you thanked the maker that he couldn’t see the crimson hue painting your face.

“Are you warm?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice startling you.

“What?”

“You’ve been shivering since you started, but… you’re all flushed,” he explained.

Your eyes widened at his words, heart stopping. “Wait—how can you see my—”

“Heat sensors.” Din couldn’t help but notice the way the heat on your face spread even more, down the soft slopes of your neck and chest.

Of course, heat sensors. You were absolutely mortified, a nervous laugh erupting from your chest. May as well be honest.

“No, not warm, more like embarrassed,” you tried to explain, unable to meet his eyes.

Din tilted his head, trying to understand. “Why?”

You scoffed. “’Cause I just realized I’ve been sticking my ugly mug in your face for the past 20 minutes.”

Din was dumbfounded. Ugly? The mere thought of you seeing yourself in that way made his heart ache. How could you think such a thing when he saw you as the most radiant thing in this galaxy? That, every time he saw you, he had to remind himself to breathe?

He had no idea what the in blazes he was doing, but he knew that he couldn’t let you go on thinking such things about yourself. Din reached out and tilted your chin up towards him, making you meet his eyes.

“Cyar’ika, you are the furthest thing from ugly that someone could be. I—you are absolutely stunning. Do you—do you know what seeing you in that dress tonight did to me?” he confessed, letting out a breathy laugh. The front of his pants tightened in reminder. “I’ll teach you something new in Mando’a right now.” He paused, letting his fingers brush over your chin. “Mesh’la.”

It felt like you were on fire at that point, burning under his gaze, but somehow you found your voice underneath all the flames. “What does it mean?” you breathed, unable to mask the tremble in your voice.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

Your body betrayed you, melting into a puddle with just a taste of his touch and the boldness of his words. It was a devastating effect, and there was no denying the dampness that had pooled between your legs now. You managed to stutter out a, ‘thank you’ before trying to finish the last knot of his stitches.

“All done,” you whispered.

Din watched as you admired your handiwork and noticed that you made no move to remove yourself from him. Instead, your hands were softly dragging across the planes of his exposed chest, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. It was such a foreign feeling, flesh against flesh on such a shielded part of his body. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him there, let alone so gently.

A strangled sound caught in his throat as you brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, just above the other side of his collarbone. It was almost too much, the shot of electricity that singed his nerves, but it felt good.

His body involuntarily bucked at the sensation and his hands gripped your hips roughly, pressing you flush against him.

You gasped at the sensation, of your clothed core dragging against the beskar plate on his thigh, your knee brushing against the bulge that had tented his pants. Your hands scrabbled to find something, anything, to anchor yourself from the blinding pleasure that fizzled through you.

“Maker,” Din murmured, letting out a shuddering breath. “Osik, cyar’ika, I’m didn’t mean to touch you like that but—”

“But what if I want you to?” your own voice sounding foreign to your ears. You did not miss the way his breath hitched, caught in the modulator of his helmet.

Din’s mind was reeling. “You—you want me to?” he swallowed thickly around the ball of shock that was caught in his throat.

And you’re nodding, eyes dark and body and mind clouded with need, leading his hands up your torso and chest; but Din, he needs to hear you say it. “Use your words, cyar’ika. I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Din. Please,” and that’s enough to dissolve any shred of self-control he thought he had. The sound of you saying his name like that, a plea for him and only him, was maddening.

His hands were on you in an instant; hands that you had seen nearly beat a man to death just for touching you, but on you they were soft, gentle. Desperate, but tender. Rough, but passionate and loving. The contrast was making your head spin.

“Din,” you whimpered. “You have to be careful, your cut—”

“I don’t care,” he rasped. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you? Make you mine?” He pulled you closer against him, hands grasping at anything he could reach. He wanted to erase any trace of the bounty from your presence.

You tried to answer, but you were a mess, filling the cockpit with soft moans and mewls as you bucked your hips on his thigh.

“I want to watch you make yourself feel good, can you do that? Just like this?” You frantically bobbed your head. “Good,” he answered, stroking your cheek. “You deserve it after tonight, sweet girl.”

The sound of ‘sweet girl’ sent wet heat straight to your core. If anything, you thought he was the one that deserved to be taken care of right now. But you were not about to argue with the Mandalorian who insisted on you using him to get yourself off.

Your hands pawed at his chest again, struggling to find some kind of purchase to anchor yourself. They finally settled for his biceps, nails digging deep. He watched as you grinded down on his thigh, eyes screwed shut. His hands fingered the strap of your dress and you nodded, giving him permission to slide it down.

Din took in the sight of your bare chest, your nipples pebbling in the cold air of the cockpit. He ached to take them into his mouth, hear you whimper and moan against his tongue, but he settled for brushing his gloved fingers over them and watching you arch.

You ground down harder, desperate you get the friction you needed. Din’s hands slipped from your breasts down back to your hips, stilling them. A high whine escaped your throat and it was almost pitiful.

“Up,” he instructed, confusion marring your face as you lifted yourself off his leg. He gripped the thigh plate and dropped it to the ground, promptly setting you back onto his thigh. “Wanna feel you,” he growled, and you could only moan in response.

Soon enough, your arousal had seeped through your panties and onto the fabric of his pants. The heady smell hit his nose and his mouth watered, desperate to know what you tasted like, to know what sounds you would make if he buried his face between your thighs.

You guided his hands back up your chest, up to your neck. His fingers cupped your face again, thumb brushing the bottom of your lip. You held his hand in place, biting the leather tip of his glove and slowly slid it off, letting it drop between you.

The feeling of his bare thumb resting on your lips sent another wave of arousal through you. “Wanna feel you,” you breathed, grinning before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking hard. Din’s eyes rolled back and he groaned; the sight of your hollowed-out cheeks and the sensation of your tongue on the pad of his thumb nearly sent him over the edge.

One hand trailed to the base of your neck, tangling itself softly in your hair. He took in the way your eyes were screwed shut, the furrow in your brows as you chased your high. You had taken your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and almost splitting it from the pressure. It was almost the same concentrated expression you wore as you tended to his injuries, though it was clear you were concentrated on something far more rewarding now.

“Mesh’la,” he commanded. “Look at me.”

You wretched your eyes open, fixing your gaze on him.

Din watched, enraptured, as you continued to pleasure yourself. You were a sight before him; pupils blown, mouth agape, chest heaving as you tried to ease the ache in your belly. He was lost in the way your eyes sparkled, perfectly matching the dark galaxy you were set against just outside the viewport.

Your moans filled the cockpit, desperate sounds and pleads of Din’s name as he sent delicious licks of pleasure throughout your body. You held on for dear life, panting as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

He feels the tension simmering from your shuddering figure, like a coil just waiting to spring.

“Are you close, mesh’la?” he whispered, his words and the rasp of his voice sending you higher and higher. “Are you going to come for me?”

And you’re a wreck, whimpering and pleading, yes, Din, yes; and all Din can think is he can die happy knowing how you moan his name. He shifts you, pulls you right onto the straining bulge in his pants and you both gasp, the sensation pulling you even closer to your orgasm. A bare hand snakes between where the two of you are pressed against each other and he presses right onto your clit.

A sob tears from your throat and stars burst behind your eyes as you’re pushed off the edge; and you’re falling, waves of ecstasy washing over you and burning straight to your toes. Din holds you close as your body continues to shudder, a steady hand on your back coaxing you down from your high. He lets out a groan when he feels evidence of your orgasm seep through to his clothed cock.

Fog clouds the bottom of his helmet as you softly pant, the pleasure lulling to a dull thrum in your veins. He’s admiring your sleepy eyes, the flushed cheeks of your afterglow. You give off a shy smile, peering into his visor. “Beautiful,” he murmurs right next to your ear. “Just like I said.”

“Thank you,” you hum, pressing a searing kiss onto his bare neck and sliding a hand over the hardness trapped beneath you.

Din hisses at your touch and you laugh, trying to ease the ache between his own legs. “Mesh’la,” he warns, grunting at the loss of contact as you lift yourself off him and slide between his knees, kneeling.

“Yes?” you respond, sliding your hands up and down his thighs, and pausing at the button of his pants.

“You don’t have to—” he starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“But I want to, Din,” you assured. You rest your head on his knee, peering up at him with wide, innocent eyes, awaiting his permission. “Wanna return the favor, wanna taste you,” and you grin at the strangled sound that leaves his throat. He couldn’t deny you even if he wanted to.

Finally, he nods, spreading his legs wider to accommodate you. Your smile grows and your nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on his pants. You’re just about to free him from the confines of his boxers when an alarm signal sounds from the ship, startling the both of you.

“Come in, Mando,” Greef Karga’s voice crackled through the small room. “We’ve got a problem. I repeat, we’ve got an emergency, please come in.”

Din groans and you throw an exasperated look towards the comms on the control panel. “Just ignore him, it can’t be that—” and you’re cut off by another sound.

The unmistakable sound of a baby crying.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into Din’s knee. You loved that little green bean to death, but damn him for his horrific timing. Din softly slid his hand over yours and you looked up.

“It’s alright, cyar’ika,” he hummed. “Go check on him,” and you slowly nodded, shooting him an apologetic look before rising from your spot on the floor.

Din watched in mild amusement as you wobbled to the door, before turning his chair towards the control panel and sighing. His own arousal was almost overwhelming, but he did his best to shove it to the back of his mind.

Whatever Greef needed, it had better be good, he grumbled in his head.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

mando’a translations:

osi’kovid – shithead

skanah – very hated person, fucker

osik – shit

osi’yaim – cowardly, useless person

cyar’ika – darling, beloved

mesh’la – beautiful

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

thank you for reading! let me know what ya think!

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #star wars fanfiction #make you mine #certaindark writing #the mandalorian smut #smut #AHHHH I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE IT #IDK HOW TO TAG LOL #I’M SO NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS BUT IT’S FINE #din djarin x reader

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sheerfreesia007 · 4 years ago

Text

Fake Dating Headcannon

Mitch - The room is loud as patrons all line the bar calling out to the busy bartenders trying to get their attention to relay their drink orders. Mitch sits at the far corner of the bar as far from the crowd as he possibly could get and sips on his beer slowly. His eyes are darting around the room looking for unknown threats that could ruin his Friday night plans. Thankfully there are none that he can see but his body instantly tenses as another body brushes up against his. Soft full lips graze against his ear as words are whispered to him. “I’m so sorry to do this to you but could you do me a solid and pretend to be my boyfriend for a few hours?” Mitch turns his head to look at you and his eyes quickly dart around your pretty face. Your eyes are silently pleading with him and he hums softly and leans forward to press a soft sweet chaste kiss to your mouth. You gasp inaudible against his mouth at his action but then you seem to melt against him slowly. Your hand comes up to rest against his chest and he almost growls at the feeling of your nails curling against his chest. When he pulls away your eyelids flutter open and your sparkling dazed eyes gaze up at him. “Who’s bothering you, so I know who to keep an eye on.” He questions softly to you as his eyes dart around the room surveying it. “Guy in the blue and yellow plaid with the brown puff vest over it.” You relay easily and his eyes narrow in on the man, he’s larger than Mitch but Mitch knows he can take him if he needs to. Mitch widens his knees and scoots the stool further back before he guides you to stand between his body and the bar. His arms loosely cage you in protectively. “This okay?” He asks softly and you nod your head at him as your fingers dance up and down his chest idly. “Yeah I’m sorry to have to ask you this. But you were the only single looking guy here and I’ve seen you here before so I felt it was a good bet you’d be able to help me.” You explain softly and he shakes his head at you silently. “Don’t apologize. I just feel bad that you’ve had to go to these lengths to get away from a guy.” Mitch easily dismisses your explanation. “Guys need to learn some manners when it comes to pretty women.” He watches as you flush under his appraisal and he smirks softly at you before leaning forward and pressing another kiss to your mouth. This one quickly heats up and when he tries to pull away to get some air your hand comes up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him back in quickly. He grunts softly against your lips and finds that he’s rather glad you chose him to protect you if this is how it’s going to go.

Marcus - Marcus was standing in the back of the elevator waiting as the rest of the FBI employees all loaded on. He smiled when he spotted you, you didn’t work in his department but he knew you worked up by his floor because you two often rode the elevator together and he would always get off before you did so worked on one of the floors above his. As you moved to the back of the elevator you grinned at him and held up a cup of coffee towards him. He furrowed his eyebrows at you and tilted his head with a soft confused smile. “What’s this?” He asked softly as he took the cup of coffee with a kind smile. “Just a little bribe before I proposition you.” You say with a wiggle of your eyebrows. Marcus chokes on the sip of coffee that he had just taken and you laugh brightly at his response. “Not like that Marcus, get your head out of the gutter.” You said as you laughed softly. He blushed brightly as you leaned back against the wall of the elevator. He watched silently as your eyes darted to the other riders in the elevator before turning to him slightly. “My sister is getting married in a month and I need a someone to come with me.” You said softly avoiding eye contact with him. Marcus smiled softly feeling proud that you had chosen him to ask. “If it’s not your thing then don’t worry about it. You have no obligation to go or do me this favor. And my family is a little crazy when it comes to relationships in the family. Hell they’ve been bugging me to get a boyfriend for years now, so they’ll be extra crazy if you come with me. You know what? Nev-“ you were rambling and Marcus found it absolutely adorable that you were rambling about this. But he took pity on you and spoke up. “I’d be honored to be your date for the wedding. I mean you did buy me coffee.” He teased softly and your head snapped up to look at him so quickly he worried you might have whiplash for a second. “But I have one condition.” He cautioned you. “Anything. You’re doing me such a huge favor as it is.” You gushed out gratefully. “Let me take you on an actual date before the wedding.” He said softly and watched as your eyes widened softly and a bright happy smile fell across your lips. “Really? You wanna take me on a date?” You asked in awe and Marcus smiled warmly down at you. “Have wanted to for months now. Ever since the first elevator ride up.” He confessed softly and your grin widened even more shockingly. “I would love to.” You said in a hushed breath. “Then it’s a date.” Marcus confirmed with his own soft smile directed at you.

Francisco - Lively music is playing from the jukebox in the corner of the bar as you burst through the door, your eyes darting around the room wildly trying to find the men who would normally be found in the establishment on a Friday night. When you heard the loud raucous laughter of the group your eyes instantly followed and you sighed in relief as you quickly made your way over towards them. “Hey there Sunshine! How are you?” Benny called out happily as he saw you approach the table they were sitting at. “Hey Sunshine!” Pope greeted you happy to see you and Ironhead and Catfish both nodded at you in greeting. “Hey guys.” You sighed at tiredly as you sat in the empty chair at the table. “Everything alright?” Ironhead asked with a raised eyebrow and you shook your head. “No, it’s my grandma again.” You lamented softly and all four of the men nodded their heads in knowing, they had all met your grandmother at one point or another in your friendship with the group and they knew how much she stressed you out. “What’d she do this time?” Benny asked as he took a swig of his beer. You tilted your head from side to side as you grimaced in embarrassment. “More like what I did this time?” You questioned gritting your teeth slightly. All four pairs of eyes snapped to you and then all match slow grins formed on their faces. “Tell me you finally told her off.” Pope said in a hushed tone as he looked at you with wide hopeful eyes. “I did, but I also shot myself in the foot.” You said as you ducked your head. “What do you mean Mija?” Catfish asked softly as he sat leaned back in his chair watching you quietly. “She was being a brat and kept nagging me about getting a boyfriend and no matter what I told her that I wasn’t looking for one she wouldn’t let up. So I told her she was being an asshole and overbearing and that I already had a boyfriend and was keeping him a secret because of the way she acts like this.” You explained all in a rush. It was quiet for a few moments before laughter rang out around the table from the men. Pope was cackling and slapping his knee while Benny was howling with amusement, Will was chuckling softly as he shook head and Catfish just stared at you with an awed look and a soft smile. “So where’s this boyfriend?” Benny teased as he finally stopped howling. You grimaced and shook your head. “It was a spur of the moment thing I don’t actually have a boyfriend and now she’s expecting the imaginary man to show up to the next family party this weekend coming up.” You lamented and rested your head onto the table with a huff. Pope laughed happily and you turned your head to him. “I’m so glad you find joy in my misery asshole.” You snipped out. “I don’t I just find this to be perfect timing. Fish doesn’t have Rosalita this weekend coming up so he’s free and available to play pretend with you.” Pope said excitedly. “Pope!” Snapped Catfish as the other two men grumbled in positive tones. Your head snapped up and turned to Catfish with hopeful eyes. “Really? Would you be okay with that? You’d only have to endure my family for one night with me and then I could make up some excuse for us to break up so she’d get off my back.” You began saying excitedly. “Mija.” Catfish said softly as he groaned and rolled his head on his neck. You turned your head to him and felt your hopes plummet at the look on his face. Sighing dejectedly you shook your head. “Don’t worry about it ‘Fish. It was a stupid idea.” You said softly and sat back in your chair as you crossed your arms over your chest. The table grew quiet and you felt embarrassment heat your face before you stood from the table. “I’m gonna head out guys I’ll see ya around.” You said in farewell to the men who only grunted and grumbled in response to you. As you made your way out to the parking lot you grumbled to yourself about how stupid of an idea it was that Catfish would be willing to pretend to be your boyfriend for one night. You had hoped that maybe he returned at least some of the feelings that you had for him but unfortunately it seemed that he didn’t. Just as you came to your car you unlocked and began opening the door only for it to be shut by someone’s large hand coming down from behind you. You turned quickly and saw Catfish standing close to you. “I don’t want to play pretend.” He said in a rush and you rolled your eyes at him. “Yeah I got the memo loud and clear when we were inside.” You griped to him and he huffed at you. “No, I mean I want it to be real if I’m going to be your boyfriend.” He said lowly and you stared up at him in shock. “Are you being serious?” You asked softly and he nodded his head. You surged forward and pressed your lips to his, making him grunt softly and slowly return the kiss.

Stiles - You were standing in line at the movie theater waiting to buy popcorn and your drinks, not to mention you would have to pick up a package of m&m’s for Stiles since that boy couldn’t go through one movie without them. Suddenly you feel a presence behind you and whirl around quickly almost losing your balance as you gaze into Stiles’ shocked eyes. “Hey.” You greet and smile warmly at him and he returns the smile before looking over his shoulder. Your eyes dart over his shoulder and see Scott with his date Rachel over by the doors. “Hey so listen Scott needs us to pretend to be dating because he thinks it would be weird if his date found out he brought his two best friends on their date with him.” Stiles explained quickly as Scott and Rachel began walking over to the two of you. “Well yeah because it is kinda weird. I mean we told him that.” You said with a shrug of your shoulders. You didn’t want to pretend to be dating Stiles and you were trying to avoid it all costs, because you wanted to actually be dating Stiles. You had had a crush on the boy for so long it was starting to become pathetic how lovesick you were for him. Just then Stiles stepped closer to you until your chests were almost brushing and his hand slid around your waist tugging you even closer to him. Your hands came up to his chest to catch yourself before you fell completely into his body as you stared up at him. Rolling your eyes you huffed at him as he grinned gazing down at you. “Smooth Stilinski.” You tease him and watch as his grin widens and his cheeks flush with a pink hue. “I’m a smooth operator.” He says confidently and you burst out laughing at his horrible line. “Oh god I’m dating a dork with horrible puns.” You moan out and he grins as he chuckles happily. His head tilts downward and his nose nuzzles behind your ear. You suck in a sharp breath at his movement and your body just melts into his. “I wish this wasn’t pretend and that we were actually dating.” He whispers softly almost inaudible but you heard him. “Me too.” You whisper softly and then your head jerks back and the two of you stare wide eyed at each other as you both process what you had confessed. Suddenly the two of you lunge at each other and it’s all a mess of wet kisses and flailing limbs as you collide. “Hey….guys?” Comes Scott’s unsure statement from next to you and Stiles pulls back violently gasping for air. “Scotty the two of us need to leave. Yeah, we need to leave. Have fun on your date.” Stiles rushes out quickly as he grips your hand firmly in his and drags you out of the movie theater. “Bye Scott! Bye Rachel!” You call out over your shoulder as you wave at them.

Tequila - Sadie Hawkins. You sigh softly as you read the text message from Tequila. “Everything alright?” Nick asks as he leans on the bar top smiling softly at you with a raised eyebrow. “Gotta go save Tequila again.” You tell him as you take another swig of your beer. “So who’s it gonna be tonight? Scorned girlfriend or tattling best friend?” He asks amused as he shakes his head. “Does it matter? The results are all the same.” You say with a shrug. Your eyes dart over to where Tequila sits with a pretty brunette and you sigh softly. “You know maybe you should tell him how you feel maybe then all of this would stop.” He suggested and you shook your head at him. “I’m just the friend who bails him out of bad dates.” You tell him and smile tight lipped. Standing from the stool you begin to walk over to Tequila and the brunette. When Tequila spots you he gives you a relieved look before his eyes widen comically. “Oh shit.” You hear him say softly and the brunette begins to turn towards you. “Baby?!” You cry loudly as you begin to glower at Tequila. Well tonight was gonna be scorned girlfriend. Pursing your lips you cross your arms over your chest and stand defensively between Tequila and the brunette. “Baby, I thought you said you were gonna be late at the office.” You accused Tequila with a pout. You could see the brunette starting to fidget on her stool as she watched you glare at Tequila. “Honey I-“ Tequila began to try to explain but you cut him off. “And who’s this?” You asked as your eyes swung to the brunette. She grimaced softly and stood quickly from her stool. “I’m so sorry he asked me out on a date tonight and I didn’t know he was in a relationship.” She rushed out embarrassed and you felt bad that you were putting her through this all because Tequila didn’t like something about her. Your body suddenly felt exhausted at playing this charade with him. “I have to go.” She said hurriedly before rushing out of the bar. “You are a life saver.” Tequila gushed out as he chuckled softly to himself. “Tequila I’m tired of doing this. Find someone else to play your fake girlfriend I’m not doing this anymore.” You said with finality and moved to the bar and signaled Nick over so you could pay your tab and go home. You were just so tired all of a sudden. “What do you mean? What am I gonna do without my best fake girlfriend?” He asked as he looked over at you with a peculiar look on his face. You shook your head at him. “I’m tired of lying to these women that you find fault with. Don’t you get tired of it?” You asked incredulously. He shook his head in response. “Not really I mean it stinks that they aren’t what I’m looking for but that’s part of the dating world.” Tequila answers. “Well part of the dating world is being honest with your dates. I’m done Tequila you’re gonna have to figure it out on your own from now on.” You said before turning towards Nick. “I wanna close out my tab Nick.” You said as you pulled your wallet out from your back pocket. “Don’t worry about it I gotcha covered.” Nick said softly and waved his hand at you. You looked at him silently for a moment and then nodded your head. “Thanks. I’ll see you guys later.” You said with a wave and turned to leave. “So that’s it we’re just done?” Tequila asked from behind you and you turned to look at him. “I told you I’m tired of lying Tequila. Find someone else to lie for you.” You responded dejectedly and then turned and walked out quickly.

Whiskey - The room was too crowded. So crowded that it was almost impossible to move about the room. And Whiskey needed to move if he was going to catch his target at any chance. Just as he stepped to the side around a portly older man a woman stepped in his path and fluttered her eyelashes at him. She was tall and slender in a floor length red silky dress, a pretty face with red painted lips and long cascading black hair. She was gorgeous and she knew it if the look in her eye was anything to go by. Whiskey sighed softly as his eyes darted over her shoulder to the target he was tailing. “Excuse me Ma’am.” He said softly as he ducked his head and tried to step around her. Her hand shot out to his forearm and kept him in place. “You’re new I haven’t ever met you before.” She simpered to him and fluttered her eyelashes at him again. He smiled tightly at her and looked back to the target to only seem him slipping through the far door at the side of the room. “I don’t-“ he began to explain as he huffed softly but was cut off by a lilting voice. “Hannah, leave the poor man alone he’s just trying to get across the room.” You chastised the woman softly as you stepped up to the two of them. Whiskey turned to gaze at you and had to tilt his head downward to get a look at you, you were a short little thing. You smiled kindly up at him and hooked your arm through his elbow. “C’mon sweetheart, I’ll get you to where you’re goin’.” You said softly and began to lead him through the crowd weaving around people like you were spineless and all he could do was be pulled along with you. When you exited the crowd and he found himself standing in front of the door that the target had escaped through not more than five minutes ago he turned back to you. “Thank you.” He said warmly and full of relief. “No problem sweetheart.” You said with a bright smile and wink sent his way. You began to turn from him and he reached out gently for your hand. When he gripped it you looked over your shoulder at him in confusion. “I’d like to repay you.” He said turning on the charm for you with a knowing smile. You laughed delighted and shook your head at him. “No need. I come to these things so often I could navigate them with my eyes closed.” You said dismissively and waved your hand in the air. Whiskey stepped closer and you looked up at him with a teasing smirk on your face. “But if you insist. What do you propose?” You asked softly still smirking at him. “Dinner at my favorite little hole in the wall and an evening walk around the park not far from it.” He suggested. He watched as you silently contemplated his offer and then a grin lit up your face and he felt his breath was stolen from him. “Alright sweetheart. Come find me later when you’re done with whatever and I’ll give you my number.” You told him and he nodded eagerly. Then you slipped into the crowd again and Whiskey lost sight of you. He smiled softly to himself as he turned to the door and quickly slipped through it getting back to the mission but you’d be on his mind the whole time.

Raymond - The twinkling sound of glasses hitting each other and light chatter filled the ornately decorated room. You felt slightly uneasy at all the extravagantly dressed people in the room and you shifted on your feet clad in small kitten heels. You raised the glass filled with rum and coke to your lips and took a small sip. “There you are darling.” Rosalyn said as she stepped over to you with Mickey following close behind her. You smiled brightly and nodded your head at her. “Have you been hiding away over here in the corner all night?” She asked in a teasing lilt and you smiled, shaking your head at her. “No, I played the part of professional business woman and made connections but I was just taking a breather. It’s a bit stuffy in here.” You said with ambiguity as your eyes followed a man who held his nose up as he walked past you. Mickey’s bark of laughter pulled your attention to him and he grinned wickedly at you as he wrapped an arm loosely around Rosalyn’s waist. “I like her. She calls it like it is. No wonder you hired her on.” He said with warm fondness as his eyes peered at you knowingly. “I was wondering if either of you had seen Ray? I lost him earlier in the crowd and haven’t been able to find him since.” You said with slight concern tinging your voice as your eyes darted around the room looking for the man. “Is that the only reason you’re looking for him love?” Rosalyn asked smirking at you knowingly. “How times have I told you to stop playing match maker Ros?” You asked exasperated with her intentions. “Oh really now?” Mickey asked in a soft awed voice as he gazed at you more scrutinizingly. “I could see it.” He said after a moment and you scowled softly at him. “Don’t encourage her. Soon she’ll start planning our wedding and Ray won’t have a clue.” You lamented to him softly and he laughed amused. “Actually you may have to go save him love.” Rosalyn said with a twinkle in her eye as she gazed at something behind you. You turned to see what she was talking about and almost burst out laughing at the sight. Raymond stood there uncomfortably stiff as a woman brushed her hands up and down his suit clad body. You watched as Ray leaned back away from the woman with a slight sneer on his face and his darted around the room for any type of assistance. “Go save ‘em love. He needs you.” Rosalyn encouraged softly from behind and you scoffed at her. “This doesn’t mean anything.” You said over your shoulder and felt her pat your shoulder lightly. You then took off across the room to save Ray from the woman who couldn’t take a hint. You watched as Ray’s eyes landed on you over the woman’s shoulder and watched as his body seemed to deflate with relief as you moved up to his side. The woman had finally stopped touching Ray and you could see that his body was relaxing further. You smiled up at him as he looked down at you. “Hello love.” He said warmly to you in that deep baritone voice of his. “Hello Ray.” You responded kindly as you sidled up to him resting your hand on his bicep feeling his muscle flex through the material of his tuxedo. You watched as something changed in his eyes as he gazed at you and suddenly he leant forward and pressed his lips to yours making you gasp softly. He turned his body towards yours and his hand came up to cup your cheek. “Atta boy Ray!” Came Mickey’s shout from somewhere in the room and the two of your pulled away grinning widely.

Forrest - It was busy in the station tonight as you worked behind the bar and cleaned up as the hours passed. Most of the locals knew you and they knew that the Bondurant boys looked out for you, but it was those few out of town ones who tried to overstep the boundaries. As you were walking back from clearing away one of the tables you held the dirty dishes in your arms as you moved past the men sitting at the bar. Suddenly a sharp sting blooms on your backside and you whirl around in shock. Two men that you haven’t seen before in the station are snickering at your response and you scowl softly at them as you move closely behind Howard’s back to get behind the bar. Howard’s eyes trail you and you connect your eyes with his only to shake your head not wanting to cause a problem tonight. He nods his head slightly and you get back to refilling drink and food orders from the patrons. It isn’t until another hour has passed that the same two men start talking about you in rather vulgar terms and it’s starting to make you uncomfortable. Your whole body jolts when the loud sound of Forrest’s office door slamming shut catches your attention. Your eyes dart to him as he moves slowly through the room over to the two men who have been giving you a hard time. “Is there a problem here?” He grunts out to the men and they look over their shoulders at him. “No problem at all.” One of them answers and you watched as Forrest leaned closer to the men. “You leave her alone or you’ll have to deal with me.” Forrest threatened quietly to them and your eyes widened slightly at his words. You knew the Bondurants cared for you but you had never thought that Forrest would threaten someone in your honor. Then Forrest was moving around the bar to stand behind it with you as he moved to start wiping down the bar as you got to the orders that came in. “So what, is she your gal then?” Sneered one of the men and you avoided making eye contact with anyone as you continued pouring drinks for the other patrons, but you could see Forrest still in movement out of the corner of your eye. He stilled with his hand holding the wash rag against the bar top and stared at the man in silent shock. “Yeah, that’s his gal. So better leaver her be.” Howard said suddenly causing everyone to turn and look at him. He smirked softly as his eyes landed on you and saw the heated blush gracing your face.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

Maternity Leave

The fifth part to Get Your Fix

Masterlist

Special credit to @sherrybaby14 who requested the idea for the first part.

Warnings: non/dubcon sex, sex pollen, breeding kink, mentions of birth control, forced pregnancy.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: So this is the final part of this series BUT because it is crossing over with Heart-Shaped Box, we will see our reader again through that as well as in a possible epilogue depending on how it all unfolds. I’ll be working on HSB for tomorrow hopefully! So enjoy. Another ticked off the list.

Let me know what you think with a reblog or reply if you can! <3

It was the day after your birthday. You were sat in the busy restaurant, the dulcet tones of jazz buzzed below the voices of patrons. Steve made certain you were early; enough that your reservation had yet to be prepared for you. Nearly a dozen seats set aside for your party. Your chest filled with dread as you looked at the empty chairs.

You jiggled your leg nervously. You played with the skirt of your dress and ignored the man beside you. You had tried on several outfits before you dared to leave your apartment. You were starting to notice the subtle rounding of your stomach and your breast were terribly swollen. While the sickness had finally relented, it had been replaced by an intense hunger; one which had you nibbling on the breadsticks greedily.

“Remember, proteins,” Steve chided as he slipped his arm over the back of your chair. “And drink lots of water.”

You dropped the last half of your bread stick and glared at him. You reached for your water and drank deeply. You set it down and crossed your arms as you turned away from him. His hand slipped onto your shoulder and he leaned in.

“I’m just looking out for you and the baby,” He intoned. “Please, don’t be like this in front of everyone.”

“Like what?” You snapped at him.

“I understand, your body is changing,” His other hand went to your thigh. “Hormones… but it’s for the better.”

“Stop touching me,” You hissed.

“What?” He scoffed as he squeezed your leg. “I can’t knock you up again.”

“Oh, shut up,” You elbowed him away and grabbed the bread stick.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen your mom?” He asked suddenly. “You should see her more often don’t you think? Especially now with the baby…”

“Are you threatening me?” You turned on him and swallowed your mouthful.

“Not you,” He ran his tongue across his bottom lip. “I only wanna keep you safe. You and the baby.”

“You-- Don’t you ever.” Your nostrils flared as you jabbed the piece of bread towards him. “That is my mother--”

“And I’m sure she’ll be a wonderful grandmother,” He smirked. “But I can’t have anyone around my child who I can’t trust.”

“You’re sick,” You shook your head, “You really are.”

“I think you like it,” His hand wandered to your thigh again.

You went stiff but didn’t push him away. It was better to ignore him. He seemed to thrive on your spite. Besides, you were more concerned about the lunch. Not only would your family be there, but your boss and several of your co-workers. Everyone who mattered in your life. Steve had been so careful to fit them into his little blueprint.

You sighed and rubbed your stomach without thought. Steve’s hand left your thigh cold but settled over your own. You kept your eyes ahead and tore your hand out from beneath his. He pressed his palm to your middle. He held it there as you glanced at the door.

“You’re growing,” He whispered excitedly.

“Shh,” You batted him away as you saw a familiar redhead at the doors. “Nat is here. Bruce too.”

He drew away reluctantly and stood as your first guests approached. You rose and greeted them along with Steve, thankful for a buffer. You sat and checked the time. You wished you could hit fast forward on this whole farce. Better yet, you’d give anything to undo all that had led to it.

👶

Tony was the last to arrive. He always was. Pepper badgered at him as they approached the table and apologized for their delay. Your parents were introduced and they apologized that your sister could not make the gathering. You smiled numbly as you watched the interloping of friends and family. You just wanted to hug your mom and beg her to take you with her.

“I was surprised,” Your mother said gaily, “She never said much about Steve but I mean, what do you say?”

You cringed at your mother’s fawning. Steve basked in the golden light of his reputation and looks. It was easy for him. He had deceived you just as easily. You sipped your water quietly and longed for the chardonnay Wanda nursed diligently.

“Well, I’m afraid to say that’s my fault,” Steve preened. “It’s a lot easier to figure these things out when it’s just the two of you. Especially as co-workers and--”

“Oh, yes, our golden boy is just as bad as all the others,” Tony piped up. “But don’t worry, I have a team for damage control and they’re used to cleaning up after him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah, but they wouldn’t be so skilled if they didn’t work for you.”

Tony shrugged and took a drink. “Well…” Pepper elbowed him and your father laughed to himself.

“The important thing is that you’re happy,” Your mother said. “It’s good to be cautious.”

You grumbled and stabbed at your salad. You wanted to sink the tines into someone in particular but you resisted as there was too much of an audience. You nodded and shoved your mouth full of lettuce to keep from a smart remark.

“Well, we did try to be…” Steve stood and you craned your neck to look up at him. You swallowed as he took his glass and your heart stopped. “I’d like to say something.” Your eyes rounded and you shook your head frantically. “While I did bring you here for a birthday, I, or we, have some news.”

You could barely breathe as you watched through a haze. The words were muffled and yet all too clear as he spoke them. You gripped the edge of the table.

“Steve…” You whispered but he ignored you.

“We know it’s a bit early but we’re very excited to go on this adventure together,” Steve reached down and took your hand. He pulled you up to your feet and you avoided the gaze of every person at the table. You stared at your plate. “We’re… pregnant. Three months now.”

“Jesus, this guy works fast,” Tony said.

“Tony.” Pepper remanded.

“A baby!” Wanda sang and you winced.

You lifted your head shyly and looked to your parents. Your father’s brows were raised as high as they could go but your mother beamed in delight. She stood and swiftly rounded the table. Steve let go of you as she drew you into a hug and you let her. If you had any strength left in you, you wouldn’t be able to keep from throttling Steve.

“Congratulations,” She held you at arms length and took you in. “I should have known.”

“Mom,” You warned. “Really…”

“Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you,” She hugged you again and then sidled past to hug Steve too. “You take care of my girl.”

“He better,” Your father said curtly from across the table. He still hadn’t moved.

“Working on,” Steve assured as he waited for you to sit first. “Actually, there is more.” You squinted and looked at him. “We’re moving away from the city. We’ve been looking at house just north of here.”

“Wait,” Bruce said. “Wait, you’re… moving?”

“Well, she won’t be able to work in the lab much longer, will she?” Steve countered. “Even if we stayed, she’d have at least a year of leave to take care of the baby. You’ll be down a tech anyway.”

“Steve, you’ve really done it,” Tony teased. “First you fill my desk with paperwork and now you’re stealing my best tech.”

You were breathless. Stunned. He hadn’t mentioned anything about moving away from the city. Sure, he’d alluded to getting you out of your single apartment but not this. And your job? How many times had he sworn you wouldn’t lose it and now he was taking it from you by force. You sat in a daze.

“Excuse me,” You stood suddenly. “I gotta… use the restroom.”

You stormed away to the small alcove that led to the facilities. You touched your forehead and tried to think. As you turned back, Steve was there and you growled.

“Goddamnit, you wanna give me a minute?”

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?! I’m not moving and I’m not quitting my job.” You spat. “How can you-- I’ve worked years for this and now you’re just going to take it all away and for what? A baby? A stupid baby?”

“For a life. A family. For us.” He grabbed your arm and shoved you into the men’s. He locked the door behind him. “Look, I found us a real nice place. Perfect for us; for the kids.”

“Kid,” You insisted.

“We’ll see,” He countered. “Now, you need to calm down. You don’t wanna stress out the baby.”

“You’re stressing me out,” You returned.

He inhaled deeply and his jaw tensed. His eyes darkened as he glared down at you.

“Well, you do have options; the first is you go along willingly and your mother, your father, your sister, well, they get to come visit and it’s all just one happy family.” He backed you up against the sink. “The second is you keep being a little bitch and I’ll drag you up there myself and you won’t see any of them again.”

“Yeah, right,” You scoffed. “And when they wonder why their daughter is MIA?”

“You’re acting erratic. Your recent history at work shows a change in behaviour; you been dodging phone calls from your family.” He smirked. “I’ve bought you a house, I’ve taken care of you, and all of a sudden, you’ve just left. You’ve run away and poor Steve Rogers is left to raise a child all on his own. A child you abandoned so callously.”

You gaped at him. You sputtered and your lip trembled. “You’re… insane.”

“I’m doing what I have to for my family,” He leaned in so that his nose almost touched yours. “For our family. So, settle down, put a smile on, and let’s go back to lunch.”

👶

You suspected that even if the hormones hadn’t ravaged your emotions, you would be distraught. You stood in your empty apartment and looked around at the bare walls. How quickly your entire life was packed away into boxes. How quickly it had become someone else’s. You went to the window and looked out at the moving truck below.

Your last day at the lab was harder. You could see Bruce was upset but he wouldn’t say it. He only smiled and wished you the best. Promised to see you at the shower, as everyone else had. It was all about the baby now. All about that life growing in your stomach with each day. You could no longer hide it now in the midst of your fourth month.

And it didn’t deter Steve. It only seemed to inflame him. When he was near, his hand was on your stomach and it never took very long until it wandered. Until he was all over you and you were lost in the same delirium which started this mess. Your own weakness. For him.

The door open and closed. It echoed in the airy apartment. You turned as Steve put his hands on his hips and took in the expanse of the barren room. He sighed, content.

“The movers are heading out. We’ll follow them up and get settled in tomorrow.” He said. “Couple hours on the road but we should be in time for supper.”

You shrugged and stepped away from the window. “Okay.” You said dully. You didn’t want to leave; that meant it was all so final. Even as your body changed, as you felt the life inside of you bloom, it just wasn’t real to you. It was like a nightmare; vivid and suffocating.

“You’re gonna miss this place, aren’t you?” He met you at the counter that divided kitchen and living room. “Trust me, our new place is nicer. Bigger.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You turned to him. “So why do you pretend?”

“What?” He blinked.

“If you cared about me at all, you wouldn’t have done this. You wouldn’t force this on me. You wouldn’t--”

“I have done this,” He cradled your face and pressed himself to you. “Because I care.” He turned you so that you were between him and the counter. “Because out of a dozen, hundreds, thousands of women, I chose you.”

“Steve,” You grabbed his hand. “Please.”

“You’ll have your memories but we’ll make better ones,” He slipped his hand out from beneath yours and gripped the edge of the counter as trapped you against it. “But we can make another before we go.”

“Ugh,” You pushed on his chest. “Really?”

“Turn around,” He leaned in. “Come on.”

“Let’s just go,” You tried to shove his arm away but he didn’t budge.

“Or we can make a pit stop along the way?” He offered. “Hmm?”

You rolled your eyes and turned slowly to face the counter. His pulled away from the counter and dragged his hands down your back and lingered on your hips. You shivered as his fingertips sent a thrill through you. You grasped the edge of the counter as he backed you up just slightly. He hooked his thumbs under your pants and pushed them to your thighs.

You leaned on the counter as his zipper whispered behind you and the denim of his jeans brushed against your ass. You hung your head. It would appease him as much as you. Lately, you had grown ravenous. You read online that it was the hormones but that was an easy excuse.

He slid his hand between your legs. You were already wet. He delved between your folds and flicked over your clit. You twitched and let out a gasp. He did it again. He pushed himself against you and slipped his hand out to guide his cock to you. He wetted his tip and eased past your swollen lips.

You bent lower as he sank into you slowly. You let out a rattling breath as he buried himself entirely. He gave a careful thrust and you arched your back. He bent over you and pushed your shirt up as he stretched his hand across your stomach. He nuzzled your neck as he held you to him and began to rock.

“See how much you’re growing?” He purred as you closed your eyes. You grasped at the counter as he moved against you.

You panted as the sweat formed along your back and thighs. Your walls strained around him and you pushed back against him eagerly. His motion sent tingles along your spine as he sped up with each tilt of his hips. He kept his hand on your stomach as his other gripped your shoulder. He fucked you harder as the mewls rose louder and louder from your lips.

The slick sounds bounced off the corner of the apartment and danced around you. You hissed as you felt the steep rise. Your core thrummed and you dug your nails into the countertop. Your lips formed an O as you came silently, too enraptured to make a noise. You shook in utter delight and clung to the moment of bliss.

Steve kept his arm wrapped around you and pulled you straight. You were on tip toes as he rutted into you. His grunts were loud and untamed. He snarled as he climaxed. He spasmed as he came and his ragged breaths brushed over your hair. He held you close as he stilled and lingered inside of you. He kissed your crown and held his lips there for a moment.

He released you gently and pulled out of you. He was quick to draw your panties back up and his semen seeped into the cotton. He tucked himself away as he rounded you.

“Don’t,” He warned. “Jeans up. I want you to stay like that. I want me in you until we get there.”

You gulped and reluctantly pulled up your pants. You zipped up the fly and shuddered as you felt his cum cooling in your panties. He reached out and straightened the hem of your shirt, certain to graze your bump with his fingers.

“Come on,” He smiled as he took your hand. “We got a long ride.”

👶

The drive was long. For the first hour, you were restless. Then you dozed to the steady turn of the tires and the bustling wind of the highway. When you woke, you were on the lazy curved streets of some suburban retreat. You yawned and sat up in your seat. Steve reached over and squeezed your leg.

“Almost there,” He assured you.

You nodded and crossed your arms as you watched the houses pass. You missed the city already.

The sun was on its decline as the street lights flickered on. Mothers called to their children to come inside as you passed. The lawns were all neatly trimmed, the houses cookie cutter, and the picket fences pristine. You frowned.

Was this to be the rest of your life? This humdrum feminine mystique?

You looked over at Steve. How could a monster be so daft? Is this all he ever wanted? A swatch among this quilt of antiquated domesticity. He turned down another winding street and another until he finally pulled into a driveway next to the moving truck. The house was like any other; another lifeless clone.

You stared up at your new prison as Steve got out of the car. He came around to your side and opened the door. “I’m gonna check on the movers and then we’ve got dinner plans.” He checked his watch. “Running a bit behind but it was worth it.”

You grumbled and climbed out of the card reluctantly. Dinner plans? You hovered around the car as Steve headed for the front door. A mover emerged at the same time and he laughed off their near collision. You watched as he chatted with the man in his torn jeans. He clapped his shoulder and strode back down the drive.

“They’re almost done,” He smiled. “Should be by the time we’re done with our housewarming.”

You shook your head, confused. He grabbed your hand and led you down the drive to the sidewalk. “What’s--”

“Well, there was one friend who couldn’t make our little lunch but he wants to welcome us to the neighbourhood,” Steve pulled you up the next walk.

“Can’t I change first?” You looked down at yourself. “I mean…”

“No one will know,” He grinned. “And besides, we’ve already kept them waiting.” He stopped at the front door and rang the doorbell. You squirmed beside him. He nudged you as he waited for an answer. “Smile.”

You forced your lips to curve though it felt like more of a scowl. The door opened at last and woman stood before you. Her eyes were wide but not unwelcoming. She wore a red dress with polka-dots and a pair of mary jane flats.

“Steve,” She greeted meekly. “And this is?”

Steve introduced you and stepped forward to kiss the woman’s cheek. “Bucky hiding from us?”

“James is in his office.” She answered as she clung to the door and backed up. “Please, come in. Dinner’s waiting.”

“Thanks,” Steve waited for you to enter first and followed closely. The woman turned away quickly and scurried down the hall. You heard a knock and then her voice. “James, they’re here.”

She returned and waved you after her into the dining room. Plates and cutlery were set out, waiting for you. She looked at Steve and then you. Her eyes rounded as she saw your stomach. You shielded it with your hand and she blanched. She tore her eyes away quickly.

“Sit,” She said. “Please.”

She clasped her hands together and retreated to the kitchen. You sat as you listened to her clinking around before she returned with a tray. She set out a pitcher of water and a bowl of bread. She flitted back into the kitchen and emerged with a platter of roast beef. Next, a bowl of steaming potatoes and another of roasted veggies. As she set down the last, a shadow appeared in the doorway.

“About time.” Steve chimed as he stood. He shook the dark-haired man’s hand.

You recognized him though you’d never met him. Steve introduced you with a smile. You shook his hand in kind and sat back down. His wife, or whatever she was, emerged once more and sat beside him. She played with the gold chain around her neck.

“So,” Bucky began to serve himself from the platter of roast. “How far along are you? If that’s not too forward.”

You sniffed and poured yourself some water. “About four month,” You answered evenly.

“Mmm,” He nodded and glanced to the woman beside him. “We’re still trying.” She nodded and kept quiet as she scooped veggies onto her plate. She chewed her lip as she sat back and glanced over at Bucky. “But you know, the trying’s the fun part.”

She looked down embarrassed. You peeked over at Steve as he watched her too. He was unfazed by her reaction though it made you uncomfortable. Although it never seemed to bother Steve. You tried to smile at her but she avoided your gaze and poked at her food with her fork.

“A couple of months won’t make much of a difference. I’m sure our little ones will get along.” Steve said cheerily.

She grumbled and Bucky nodded. He ate diligently as the woman stared up at the ceiling.

“So, uh,” You began through the tense silence. “You have a lovely house. How long have you two lived here?”

“How long…” She began and looked to Bucky again. He shrugged at her. “I just moved in um, well, you know it all just blends together.”

“I’ve been here about a year,” Bucky said. “Wanted to fix it up a little before she moved in, you know?” She nodded and crushed a roasted yam with her fork. He sighed and grabbed her hand. “You know, if you actually ate the food, you might not be having so many issues.”

You reeled in shock at his tone. She apologized under her breath and tore her hand away. Her lips curled in barely restrained irritation. He shook his head and went back to his food.

“Well, early on, I couldn’t eat a thing so it might be a good sign,” You offered. “Stomach would just turn so quickly--”

“Harder when you have to eat next to him,” She growled as she tossed her fork on the plate.

“Don’t,” He warned.

You looked at Steve again but he only seemed amused by the scene. As you turned back to her, she flipped her plate over so that her food smeared across the table. She crossed her arms and glared at Bucky.

“What are you going do, hmm? We have guests.” She sang the last words like a bird.

Bucky set down his fork deliberately and sighed. He cleared his throat and smiled over at Steve and then you. He stood and squeezed the woman’s shoulder.

“Excuse us, she’s on some supplement right now and they're not agreeing with her.” He reached down and grabbed her elbow and made her stand. “She’s a bit hormonal.”

She seethed as he turned her away and directed her into the hall and around the corner. You heard a door slam and muffled voices.

“What the fuck?” You turned to Steve and he shrugged.

“Oh, you know, they fight like cats and dogs but the chemistry is--”

“They’re gonna murder each other,” You gasped. “The two of you are fucking nuts.”

“You know, she said the same thing,” Steve chuckled. “I think you’ll get along.”

“What has he done to her?”

“Well…” He paused and raised his finger for silence.

You listened. You didn’t hear anything at first. Then it slowly drifted through the wall. Moans. Hers and his. The rocking of some unseen furniture. Steve tilted his head coyly.

“Just a bit of tension,” He said. “You know how it is.”

“We should go.” You lowered your voice.

“Without saying goodbye? Oh, come on, we’re all adults here.” He said coolly. “They shouldn’t be too long.”

You sat back, stunned. Your eyes ran along every inch of the wall, the polished wooden floors, the carefully arranged flowers. It was all so perfect; so precise; so very fake. Your eyes went to the window, the siding of the next house; your house. The breath went out of you and you cradled your stomach.

The woman’s voice was louder now and hard to ignore. Is that what you sounded like? You glanced over at Steve and gulped. He leaned on the arm of his chair as he reached to touch your arm. Your heart clutched and the world stood still, held in the palm of his hand.

“Isn’t it nice?” He said. “You’ll have a friend. The kid too.”

THE END FOR NOW

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sif-the-tsunami · 4 years ago

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Ropes and Roses Part 5

Summary: Elizabeth Rosehill is a talented dance instructor and a force of nature that beguiles her famous student. Events in her life, however, have led her to search for more creative ways for her to keep herself afloat. What will she do to keep her dreams secure and what will it mean for her blossoming relationship. This is a very adult story about two people who are moderately terrible at adulting.

Warning: SMUT! unprotected sex (use condom sense, kids) oral (female receiving) slight angst, Dominant woman, willingly receptive to that domination but not quite a sub yet man

Pairing: Henry and OFC (am I doing this right?)

Word count: 1800ish

A/N: If you read it and like it, it would mean a lot to me if you could say something nice!

The air was getting cool and damp as they waited for their driver to pick them up. As a perk of being a performer, Elizabeth was picked up and dropped off each time she came in. The bouncer made a comment reminding her about the rules regarding taking a patron home, but kept to himself when she explained that they knew each other out of the club and he wasn’t a member. The bag she had slung across her back was stuffed with all her costumes and accessories for the evening. Henry offered to hold it for her, she however refused.

“So,” he began, “are there anymore secrets between us?

“There still may be a few. I have to keep you on your toes.” She mused with a raised eyebrow. “Can’t get rid of the entire feminine mystique this early.”

“Truly, we can’t have that, can we?” He watch her carefully, wanting to learn how to read her face. She was kind, compassionate, intelligent, and evidently capable of beating someone to tears. The car pulled up, Elizabeth waved at the large bouncer, and they took off.

“I think I know what you want to ask, but are too polite to do so. No, I do not have sex on stage with the women I perform with. Do I make them orgasm, sure. Usually it is just with a large vibrator. We had found out Olivia can squirt recently and wanted to show off a little.”

“Olivia was your naughty vixen tonight.”

“Yeah, she’s cute, isn’t she. So eager too please too. She is getting married in two months too.” She chatted. “But, just like me, we do this to pay the bills. Liv is an incredibly hard worker, she’s studying to become a neurosurgeon.”

“Good for her.” He answered quietly.

She stopped, wishing that the silence between them was less awkward. She searched for his hand in the dark unsuccessfully. There was a lot going on in his mind.

“Maybe, you should go home to Kal, I’m sure he will miss you if you don’t come home tonight you will break his puppy heart.”

“He will, but he will also be fine. Are you okay? I want to apologize but I don’t know how to process this whole thing. I am furious at Jeremy, he had no right to try and fuck things up for us. I also wish I had known but how do you tell someone that you as just starting to see, ‘Hey, I get paid to beat people.’ There isn’t a greeting card for that one. I don’t want you to mistake me being quiet as me not being alright with what you do. I’m just trying to absorb everything.”

“We’ve had a pretty terrible twenty four hours haven’t we?”

“We have, but maybe we got all of our bad luck out at once?”

“Maybe.” The car slowed down and stopped outside of an apartment building. “Do you still want to come up with me?”

Henry was already out of the car and coming around to open her door before she could finish the sentence. By the time they made it to the elevator he was kissing her neck. The entire ride up they were locked together, Elizabeth pinned to the wall by the massive man. The door chimed letting them off at her floor. She squirmed to try and have him put her down. He shook his head and squat down to pick up her bag, moving her to his shoulder, caveman style, hand on her butt. He only put her down at the door so she could let them in.

As soon as the door shut behind them, his hands were in the process of exploring the beautiful woman in front of him. Until he heard a loud meow. He broke off of their kiss and locked eyes with the biggest house cat he’s ever seen.

“You didn’t tell me you have a cat,” never taking his eyes off of the furry house guardian.

“Oh, don’t worry about him, that’s just Alistair. Like the Dragon Age character.” Elizabeth reached out and proceeded to rub cat behind her ears. “He usually meets me at the door, like a dog only smaller.”

“What the actual fuck, that creature is enormous. Where did you find him?”

“I got him as a kitten at a shelter. They didn’t think he’d get this big, but he’ll keep getting bigger until he’s about two.” The silver and black long haired tabby purred loudly. The woman and the cat briefly touched noses, “He’s my baby boy, I’m just little lady with a giant hairy pussy.”

“A dad joke, right now?” he chuckled. “I think you are the one that deserves a spanking for that, Mistress Bettie.”

“You promise?” Elizabeth bit her lower lip seductively, grabbed Henry’s hand and lead him to her bedroom. “I’ll give you the tour in the morning.”

Her room was surprisingly normal compared to what he was expecting. The bed had an inviting fluffy comforter on it that was dark blue with tiny stars all across the top and a fuzzy underside. It was going to be like sleeping under a teddy bear. There were no accessories in the room that suggested its owner had interesting tastes. Her headboard didn’t even look like someone could be tied to it. They locked lips again and Elizabeth started undressing herself. Her casual outfit they came to her home in was thrown to the side, he started stripping his suit but she stopped him after his coat came off. He kissed her neck lustily as he ran his hands down her torso.

She pulled back from him for a moment, then Elizabeth sat down on the bench at the foot of her bed, exposed except for the knee high socks she had been wearing under her boots.

“Henry, last night you seemed pretty excited about the idea of us.” He walked up to her, she started toying with his belt while looking up at him.

“I still am, in every possible way.” His voice was husky again, he gasped as her hands caressed him through the black fabric of his pants.

“Show me how much you want me, handsome. No, not with this,” she said she fondled him, leaning forward she grazed her lips against his bulge, “Show me with those lips of yours.”

Henry knelt in front of her. She sat up pretty and proper with her legs crossed at the knees, leaning her weight on one hand. He ran his hands up from her ankles, kneading her calves with he strong hands. He never broke eye contact with her as he gently kissed her the shin closest to his face. He moved her legs with the dominance he usually shows his lovers. He kissed, licked and nibbled his way to the apex between her legs before starting over on her other leg. He then grabbed her hips with his large hands and pulled her towards his face. Henry planted delicate kisses around her sweet sex. Without a word, he licked her with the entirety of his broad tongue, then flicked her firmly on her love button. He licked, teased and worshiped the perfect pussy in front of him. Her moans were music to his ears, encouraging him to ravage her further. Her first orgasm he had to earn, Elizabeth didn’t cum easily. He was more than happy to work for it though. As he peaked her pleasure, she grabbed the espresso colored curls and kept his head in one place, yelling out his name.

Henry looked up at her as the tremors subsided, kissing the inner part of her thigh, “What do you think? Can you tell how much I lust after you. I’ve wanted a taste since I’ve met you.”

He chuckled as all she could muster was an “uh huh.”

“So, beautiful, what now?” He asked, licking his lips.

“I want you to take the rest of your clothes off and lay on your back.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He replied with a wicked smile.

“You say that now, but you don’t what kind of trouble that will get you into.” she cooed at him. Henry obliged her, slowly removing the rest of his suit. She sat between his legs after he got on the bed with her. “One day, I promise that I will give you the most earth shattering blowjob you have ever had.”

“Oh yeah?” He mused at her. She started teasing him, having her fingers dance up and down his magnificent manhood.

“Yes, however, I am feeling very selfish tonight.” She rubbed little circles with the precum along the tip. He shifted and inhaled sharply. She swings a leg over him and positioned herself above him, good God was he girthy. “I don’t even know if you’ll fit inside.”

She slid down his length with a throaty moan. She started to ride him, grinding herself against him. They begin to thrust and rock together, Henry losing himself to the pleasures of her body. He pulls her close to him, kissing her deeply to bring them closer. Her moans and whimpers drove him wild. She was the sex goddess of his wet dreams. Without warning, he pulled her hips off of him, and rolled Elizabeth onto her back. He held his weight on his elbows, holding her face with one of his hands. She ran her nails down his back, leaving deep red scratches. He thrust himself into her, losing the ridged control he worked so hard to maintain. Her eyes were tearing up, as soon as he saw, he stopped immediately.

“Oh god, am I hurting you?” he asked breathlessly.

“I’m okay, please don’t stop. Oh fuck, please, don’t stop.” She gasped. With her consent, he pounded himself into her. She arched herself against him in bliss. He felt the trembling start from her core. Eyes rolling back in her skull, her orgasm was sudden and forceful, pushing Henry into the abyss with her. He touched his forehead to hers, spilling himself deep inside of her. Elizabeth’s tears continued to flow freely.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It has been so long… so so long… since I have felt this good.”

Henry kissed her temple, “Don’t apologize, I lost my hold, you just feel so good. Damn, I thought I hurt you.”

He rolled over onto his back. He opened his arm up for her to snuggle up to him, resting her head on his chest, she ran her fingers through his chest hair. She shivered once coming down from her incredible high, causing her to giggle. She asked, teasing him a little, “So was it good for you?”

“Oh, fuck yes.”

“Stay with me tonight?” She asked, in that same small voice he heard that morning.

“Of course, my darling.” They drifted, peacefully, to sleep in each other’s arms.

#henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfic #fem!dom #fanfic

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kelyon · 4 years ago

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Golden Rings Chapter 4: A Light

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Rumple meets his new wife

Read on AO3

Leaning on his cane, Rumpelstiltskin staggered away from Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. Orange electric lights cast dark shadows along the empty streets. The shadows hid him from view. No resident of Storybrooke, Maine noticed any unusual behavior from the man they all knew as Mr. Gold.

A bright yellow car was parked along the curb. When he had walked by, Gold had recognized it as a 1972 Volkswagen Beetle and had priced it at under ten thousand dollars. The license plate was from Massachusetts, and no one in Storybrooke had a vehicle so distinctive and colorful. A stranger had come to town. Gold had gone inside, to collect either the rent or Ruby Lucas. He would inquire about this new arrival.

But then he had heard the name Emma.

Snow White had told Rumpelstiltskin the name she would give to her unborn child. In exchange, he had told her that the child was the only one who could break the Queen’s curse. Emma, an infant princess, the product of True Love, would grow up to be the Savior of them all. On the child’s twenty-eighth birthday, she would be called to them. She would begin the battle that would break the curse, destroy the Evil Queen, and bring back the happy endings that were denied to them in this cruel land without magic.

Tonight, he had seen her.

Overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, Rumpelstiltskin braced himself on Gold’s cane. It had worked. All of it. Centuries of planning and manipulation. Failures and setbacks. Arranging everything and everyone into their proper places so that events led--slowly but surely--to one inevitable conclusion: True Love had triumphed in the old world, and a sorceress who was as full of power as she was of pain had destroyed that world and brought everyone to a place where they would all be loveless and miserable.

Exactly where he wanted to be.

His son was here. Somewhere in this world. Long ago, a Seer had told him that he would find Baelfire again. Now he was closer than he had ever been before. Somehow, even after centuries had passed in the old world, Bae was alive in this one. He could still be fourteen. Or he could be an old man. But he was out there. And Rumpelstiltskin would find him.

Turning the corner to where Gold had parked his Cadillac--five minutes and several lifetimes ago--Rumpelstiltskin stopped in his tracks. Feet were pressed up against the inside of the windshield on the passenger’s side of the car. Bare feet. Small, pale, women’s feet.

“Belle,” he whispered.

His heart didn’t know whether to lighten or sink.

He looked down at the fourth finger of his left hand. Gold had a lifelong habit of wearing a moonstone ring there. To the few brave souls who asked, he would say it was a symbol of his bachelorhood. He neither wanted nor needed to marry. Even after he had married Mrs. Gold, he had kept the moonstone ring--because he still didn’t want or need to shackle himself to her. But he also wore a plain gold band, nearly hidden by the more ostentatious ring. Only Mrs. Gold knew it was there.

And now Rumpelstiltskin knew too. That band was his wedding ring, not Gold’s. Belle had the other half of the matched set. Once, their rings had been the cuffs that had bound her to the Dark One’s will, forced her to obey his every word. By the time he had married Belle, the rings had no magic, but more power than ever before. Even across worlds, the rings connected them to each other. They had always been a sign that he belonged to Belle--as much as she had ever belonged to him. Rumpelstiltskin wanted to be bound to his wife. He could think of no greater delight.

But Mrs. Gold was not Belle.

As he approached the car, he saw more of her. Sitting low in the passenger’s seat, she sprawled her bare legs over the dashboard in a lascivious display. Her mustard-yellow shirtdress had the top several buttons open to expose the pale skin of her chest. The lingerie shop in town didn’t sell a brassiere to match the underpants Gold wanted her to wear today, so she had gone without. The dress mostly covered her breasts, but their shapes were clearly outlined to anyone close enough to see. Her skirt was bunched up around her hips and one hand was tucked inside those lacy, poison-green underpants.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t breathe.

Gold’s knowledge came to him then. Belle--Mrs. Gold--had been teasing herself since twelve o’clock that afternoon. It was one of the games they liked to play, particularly on rent day. On these days, Gold allowed her free access to her body, head to toe. While he collected other people’s money and misery, she would slowly work herself over. Hour by hour, Mrs. Gold would stroke and caress her legs, her neck, her chest. She would pinch and scratch and rub to her heart’s delight. About an hour before they were due to go home, Gold finally gave her permission to touch the sweet wetness between her legs. He allowed this so long as only teased and never gave in to full satisfaction. And Mrs. Gold knew better than to test her husband.

The end of the game, of course, was when all the rent was collected. That was when Gold finally deigned to touch her himself. With one hand on the steering wheel and one between her thighs, he reclaimed his control over his wife’s pleasure, forcing or denying her completion as it suited him. When he chose to let her come, he rolled down the windows and made her moans last for the entire drive back to his house.

Rumpelstiltskin opened the door and slid into the car. The dome light turned on when he put the key in the ignition. Mrs. Gold lit up just as much.

“Welcome back!” she smiled. She pulled her legs down from the dashboard and slipped her feet into her high-heeled shoes. Her hand remained up her skirt. “No waitress?”

“No.” He said what Gold would say. “Somehow the Lucas women were able to gather up the necessary funds.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Gold.” She lowered her eyes. “That was my fault.”

He glanced at her, but couldn’t bear to look for long.

Mrs. Gold kept apologizing. “I shouldn’t have visited the diner so early yesterday. If I had been later, they wouldn’t have had enough time to get the money.”

She paused, and by the time Rumpelstiltskin realized that she was waiting for a response, she had started again.

“My only excuse is that Ruby is always off on Saturday nights, and I wanted to make sure she got the message. I--I did do the best I could.”

Gold’s plan had been to coerce Ruby Lucas into offering to spend a night with them in exchange for a reprieve on her grandmother’s rent. It was the sort of scenario that amused him. Not only would he get to use the body of a beautiful young woman--in addition to the one he was already married to--but he would get to make Ruby feel cheap and helpless. Gold cared less about the sex than the selling. If he could get the girl to offer herself once, she would be more likely to try again the next time he arranged for her to be in a bind. Then she would be in his power. He could keep demanding more and more while providing less and less.

But then Emma Swan had entered the story.

Rumpelstiltskin knew Emma was responsible for the Lucases having enough cash to get through the month. Gold’s plan had been foolproof, but Emma was a new variable in the equation. She was the Savior, and she was already making this town a better place.

“Are you angry with me, Mr. Gold?”

Rumpelstiltskin blinked. He looked over at the woman in the seat next to him. The hand between her legs had stopped moving. Her body was perched on the edge of the seat, nervous. Expectant. She thought he was going to punish her.

He couldn’t look at her face.

“No,” he said at last. “I’m not angry with you, Mrs. Gold.”

He allowed the motions of driving a car to busy his hands. He focused on the road to keep himself from looking at his wife. Rumpelstiltskin could use Gold’s knowledge to do things he had never learned. Gold’s hands and feet worked the wheel and the pedals. Gold’s memory knew which streets to take, when to stop at different lights and signs.

It was lucky Rumpelstiltskin had practice with hosting a second consciousness in his head. Becoming the Dark One had also given him knowledge he had never learned, abilities he could not fathom. To a crippled, mud-poor spinner, an automobile was just as much magic as a transportation spell.

Once before, he had crafted a new identity out of disparate parts. He had decided how much of the Dark One he could bear to take on, how much of the spinner he couldn’t separate from. Now he would do the same with Gold.

Everyone else in Storybrooke was fully entrenched in their cursed lives. They had no idea that it was possible to be someone else. And that was for the best. If you weren’t used to it, having two realities in your head at the same time could drive you mad.

His wife was quiet on the drive back to the house. Despite what Rumpelstiltskin had said, she clearly still thought that she had disappointed Gold. If he was displeased with her, she knew better than to make matters worse with chit chat he would find tiresome.

Rumpelstiltskin pulled the car into the small garage that sat separate from the house. Mrs. Gold didn’t move. She didn’t unbuckle her safety belt or adjust her position on the seat. The woman stared at the darkness in front of her, her unmoving hand dutifully clasped between her thighs.

He had to act. He had to do something. What would Gold do, to comfort his wife? How would he assure her that she had done no wrong?

But then the answer came to him: Gold wouldn’t care that his wife had done nothing wrong. He benefited from her thinking that she had, that she was obligated to make it up to him. Gold would unzip his trousers, pull his wife down by her hair, and stuff her sweet mouth with the full length of his cock before he would say a single word to comfort her. The man wouldn’t even offer her a patronizing “Good girl,” until his seed dribbled out from between her lips. And even then, he would force her to walk outside to the front door with it on her face. He wouldn’t let her clean herself until he grew bored with the sight of his “decoration”.

Rumpelstiltskin had no stomach for that sort of thing. Not now.

So he decided to do what Gold would do if he was pleased with his wife. Taking his cane, he got out of the car and walked around the front to her side. Then, he opened Mrs. Gold’s door for her. In this world, that was an old-fashioned, gentlemanly gesture. When Gold was feeling his best, he considered himself an old-fashioned gentleman.

Mrs. Gold seemed to read the action in the way Rumpelstiltskin had intended it. She extended her free hand, and he helped her out of the car. Her smile was broad, and shaky with relief.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Gold. You’re too good to me.”

Rumpelstiltskin clenched his teeth and said nothing. He let go of her hand as soon as she was on her feet.

She walked ahead of him, as Gold had trained her to do. He liked to admire the view. And it gave him a thrill to know that he could see her when she couldn’t see him. Gold liked to imagine that he was stalking his pretty wife. He fancied himself a predator, choosing the right moment to lunge at his unsuspecting prey.

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head.

By the standards of Storybrooke, Gold’s house was a palace. It was three stories high, with balconies and porches and bay windows. The style was named after queens and the house lived up to its royal pedigree.

It was painted pink on the outside, which was unusual in this world. Once, some fool had questioned Gold about that. How could a real man bear to live in a pink house? Gold had quipped that yes, the house was the color of a woman--that was why he liked to go in and out as many times a day as possible.

When Mrs. Gold got to the front door, she stood to the side on the porch and waited. For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin puzzled at that. Why didn’t she open the door and go in? This was her home too, wasn’t it? But then the nasty fact came to him: Mrs. Gold didn’t have a key to the house where she lived. Gold had made it very clear to her that this was his house. Whether or not she was allowed inside was entirely based on his pleasure.

But she was smiling, when he came up to the door. She presented herself with her arms behind her back. The posture pushed out her chest and further exposed her open shirtfront and bare skin. A chill wind blew through the autumn night, but Mrs. Gold didn’t flinch. She didn’t make a move to cover herself from his sight.

Rumpelstiltskin unlocked the door and held it open.

She hurried in with an enthusiastic, “Thank you, Mr. Gold!”

He took a deep breath before he crossed the threshold into Gold’s mansion. Even once he was inside, Rumpelstiltskin kept his back to the interior for a moment. He took his time locking the double doors behind him. He pressed a button by the door and an electric light shone down through a crystal chandelier.

When he turned around, Mrs. Gold was kneeling on the wooden floor in front of him.

Her shoes were lined up neatly on a shoe rack. Her yellow dress was hanging from a coat hook on the wall. Her underpants were in her hands, offered up to him. The light green had become dark with the dampness of her pleasure.

Rumpelstiltskin froze. One hand gripped his cane. But his other hand didn’t hesitate to do what Gold would do. He took the underpants and brought them up to his nose.

Belle.

In that moment, it was her. He knew Belle’s scent, her taste. He knew the feeling of her wetness on his fingers. He knew her cunt, hot and slick and ready for him. He knew her breathing, her sighs, all those delectable noises she made as he pleasured her, over and over.

And now she was in front of him. Belle’s body, small and lovely. Belle’s skin, pale as cream and smooth as silk. Belle’s scars, scars he had inflicted in his passion and sewn up with golden thread. Belle’s hair, that wild tangle of brown curls he loved to tame. Belle’s eyes, crystalline blue, wide and pleading, yearning for him. She wanted his touch, his attention, even his cruelty. Whatever he chose to give her, she would take it gladly and hunger for more.

Belle’s pink lips parted. Belle’s voice spoke. But the words that came out of her mouth were things that Belle would never say.

“Well, Mr. Gold, you’ve got the rent money. Would you like to pour it out on the bed and rub my face in it while you fuck me from behind?”

Gold wanted very much to do that, and Rumpelstiltskin felt his body responding. Why not? This woman was as much his wife now as she had ever been. She was Belle! She was beautiful, and she wanted him. He held the evidence of her desire in the palm of his hand. There was nothing to stop him from taking her upstairs and pounding his cock into her until she forgot her own name.

But that was exactly the problem.

Mrs. Gold didn’t know her own name. She wasn’t Belle.

And Rumpelstiltskin was not Gold.

Then and there, he made the decision: He would never sleep with Mrs. Gold. She wanted someone he wasn’t, and he wanted someone she could never be. Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t married Belle for her body. It would be an insult to his true wife to use this woman for his pleasure just because the two shared a physical form.

But he couldn’t let Mrs. Gold know that. Not yet, and preferably not ever. He didn’t know if anyone else in Storybrooke was awake from the curse. He didn’t even know who had survived the journey from one world to the other. He didn’t know how much time it would take before Emma Swan broke the curse.

All Rumpelstiltskin knew was who he was, who his wife was, and how important it was to keep those facts a secret. Some might call it cowardice, but he knew it as wisdom. Just because he had made it to the new world, his work had not finished. He had to wait for the next phase of the plan. He had to lay low, he had to gather information, he had to appear as much like Gold as he could possibly stand.

He could not treat his wife the way Gold did. But nor could he let her know what he was doing. He’d be walking on a blade’s edge until the Savior broke the curse.

For the present, Mrs. Gold stared up at him. Belle’s eyes, rimmed with paint and wide with want. Belle’s shoulders, rising and falling as she breathed. Even Belle’s petite, perfect breasts, her nipples pointed and red from the cold and the teasing she had given them.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t let a muscle move on his face as he took the underpants in his hand and slid them into the pocket of his suit coat, right next to the bag of rent money. It was the sort of thing Gold would do.

“I’m not going to fuck you tonight,” he announced coldly.

Mrs. Gold’s face fell. “I--I said I was sorry, Mr. Gold.” She lowered her head down to the floor. “I know I should be punished. Please punish me, Mr. Gold. Please hurt me. But please don’t deny me yourself. Not on rent day.”

She turned her head in a motion Rumpelstiltskin knew too well. She was going to kiss his boots. She was going to grovel and beg for his affection, just like he used to order Belle to do. No. Never again!

He tried to dart away, but remembered his ankle--too late. Gold had a cane for a reason. He fell back against the door with a hard thud. Hands pressed against the wood, he just barely stopped himself from sliding down to the ground.

Mrs. Gold rose up on her knees, eyes wide with concern. Her hands were raised up, as if she thought she could catch him. There was a small scar on the same hand as her wedding band. Belle’s scar, Belle’s ring.

Rumpelstiltskin waved her away before he managed to stand. “Just go,” he snarled. The shock of the fall was giving way to embarrassment, but even that was less pressing than the aching throb in his ankle.

After all these years, he had almost forgotten that pain.

“Where should I go?” Mrs. Gold got to her feet. Her voice was timid, but she looked steadily at him. “May I dress first?”

Rumpelstiltskin took a deep breath. Then another. He had taught Belle to calm her fears with breathing. As long as you can breathe, you are alive, sweetheart. As long as you can breathe, you can think. He had to think.

Mrs. Gold had taken him literally when he had told her to go. She was ready to walk out the door and stay away until he summoned her back. She was only mildly concerned that she might be naked in public outside on a late autumn night.

“You’ll stay in the house,” he clarified. He tried to keep his composure, even though he was breathing more heavily than Gold would. “You can do whatever you like, within the usual parameters. I’m going to my study to take care of the accounts. I do not wish to be distrubed. Is that understood?”

She nodded, like an obedient child. “Yes, Mr. Gold.”

“I may be up quite late,” he went on. “You are to be asleep by ten.”

At that, she looked askance. Normally rent day was when Gold kept his wife up late. He let his twin vices of greed and lust feed off of each other, with wrath often adding to the frenzy. It was the highlight of their month. But Mrs. Gold knew better than to question her husband when he gave her an order.

“I’ll be ready for you whenever you want me, Mr. Gold.”

Rumpelstiltskin made himself grin. “Yes, dearie, I know you will.”

Gold regularly called his wife dearie. It was a term he used when he knew he was cheating someone out of something. Rumpelstiltskin had stopped thinking of Belle as dearie within a week of knowing her.

Without another word, Mrs. Gold took her dress off the hook and went upstairs.

****

Even after Rumpelstiltskin turned on a desk lamp, Gold’s study remained dark and gloomy. Mahogany shelves full of thick books lined the walls, adding depth to the black shadows. A burgundy leather armchair and footstool lurked in the far corner. A matching couch stood in front of the fireplace, perpendicular to the large antique desk in front of the window.

Gold had many fond memories of having his wife bent over the arm of the couch while he worked at his desk. Sometimes he would spank her or fuck her. But just as often he would leave her for hours while she silently begged for his touch. Gold always made sure to angle her so that she couldn’t see him, or any other part of the room. She never knew where he was, if he was looking at her or ignoring her. He would keep her hands restrained behind her back and sometimes her ankles tied together so she was all but helpless. Naked and bound, with a ball gag in her mouth, her face pressed against a sheet of plastic to protect the leather and collect her tears and drool.

Shaking his head, Rumpelstiltskin looked away from the couch. He didn’t want to think about Mrs. Gold, about how cruelly her husband had treated her for twenty-eight years. He didn’t want to imagine Belle crying and pleading--or worse, falling silent because she knew better than to complain. Such images were too fresh in his mind. Before Belle had agreed to be his wife, he had made her cry far too many times. Was Gold the way he was because Rumpelstiltskin had been the way he was?

Sinking into the office chair, he rubbed his face. After a moment, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt. This was a truly hideous shirt. The pattern of black and white checks clashed with itself and did no favors for any suit that tried to match it. Did Gold think he looked handsome wearing this? Had he walked out of this house this morning confident that this was the best choice of wardrobe he could have made?

What a fool.

Oddly, the thought comforted Rumpelstiltskin. He liked judging Gold’s taste. It was proof that they were not the same. His other self didn’t know how to dress any more than he knew how to treat his wife well. But he knew better.

Rumpelstiltskin was a better man than Gold. That wasn’t saying much, but it was something. Some little spark of hope to cling to.

The shelf nearest the desk was covered by a panel of dark wood on a hinge. Curious, Rumpelstiltskin pulled down gently on the top of the panel. It folded down to reveal a single cut glass tumbler and several bottles of liquor. A bar. A much-needed amenity on a day like today.

He grabbed the first bottle he saw--it had a blue label that lay at an angle across the light blue glass--and poured a drink into the tumbler. The alcohol burned in his mouth like a cleansing fire.

He tried not to drink too quickly. What would his tolerance be in this new world? His body was what it had been as a spinner, just as lame, just as weak. In this world without magic, he had lost most of what made him the Dark One. The scales were gone. He couldn’t see without light anymore. He wouldn’t be able to go weeks without eating or sleeping any time soon. There was much that he would have to get used to again.

And there was his ankle.

Rumpelstiltskin leaned Gold’s cane against the desk. At least that looked less pathetic than the walking stick he’d relied on for fourteen years. Gods, was that really all it had been? He had been a cripple for the whole of Bae’s life--from the day Rumpelstiltskin had heard he would be a father until the moment he felt the old Dark One’s blood on his hands. One instant of cowardice had led to fourteen years of wretchedness, and even centuries later he was still branded by that choice.

Another swallow of liquor. Later, there would be time to wallow in self-pity over all the different ways he had ruined his own life. He knew from experience that such emotions never really went away. Regrets always lay dormant, like sleeping beasts waiting for the sound of a single wrong step in the forest to wake up and ravage the unsuspecting.

Only Belle had ever helped him, with her steadfast stubbornness and gentle strength. She had cut through his years of pain to expose his soul and center. And she had called it beautiful. He could come to her with his weakness, his fear, the most ugly and most evil parts of him, and she would only see how much he needed love.

And she would give him love. Even when he didn’t deserve it. And he loved her. He made her his wife and the mistress of his dagger. Everything he had, everything he was belonged to her. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had to give.

Tears pricked at his eyes. He reached into his jacket pocket for a handkerchief. Instead, his fingers grasped upon Mrs. Gold’s underpants and a bag of money.

He tossed them both on the desk, quick to keep from touching either item. The whole of Gold’s life lay before him on the desk. No tears, no love. Just sex and money.

And power. A drawer in the desk opened up to reveal a leather-bound ledger book. This was where Gold’s power lay. This was the record of practically everyone in Storybrooke, everyone who was in his debt. In red and black ink, Gold had carefully written down all of their names, what they wanted, and how much they paid him every month to have it.

Rumpelstiltskin read over the list. Row upon row of names that meant nothing to him--yet. Marco Beginini. Janine Woolverton. Mary Margaret Blanchard. Ashley Boyd. Mara Trudine. Archibald Hopper. On and on it went. Gold owned their homes or their places of business. He had loaned money to pay for their cars or medical bills. And now he had them in his book. Month by month, he kept tabs on these people’s lives. Diligently, he recorded how much trouble they had in keeping up with the payments, using that as an indicator of whether or not they could be manipulated into offering him more than just cash.

Gold had more than enough cash. Rumpelstiltskin’s fingers set to work counting out the strips of colored paper that served as money in this world. There were coins as well, silver and copper. People in Storybrooke were so desperate to appease their landlord that they emptied their change jars and counted up nickels and pennies to make sure the rent was paid.

The money was grimy and sometimes sticky under his touch. Dirt-poor, Rumpelstiltskin thought. Desperate souls. The sort of people who would pick up a coin off a dirty sidewalk because you never knew if you might need it. Mr. Gold wouldn’t show mercy if you were even one penny short.

Rumpelstiltskin leaned back in the chair. How long would it have been before Gold started demanding fealty from these people? If he hadn’t woken up, how many more months would have passed before Gold started making people grovel in the streets and kiss his shiny black shoes? This world was supposed to have evolved beyond lords and peasants. There was a saying here that all men were created equal. How could anyone believe that, as long as men like Gold ruled over so many others?

Once the amounts were recorded--money counted, names amounts tidily written down--Rumpelstiltskin put the cash to rights. Gold had a system for this, as he did for everything in his life. The bills marked for one hundred dollars went into his safe. If anyone came to him for a loan, he would have the funds ready to disperse. Twenty dollar bills went to the bank, to be deposited in various bank accounts. Gold never deposited enough cash at one time to arouse suspicion--though of course there was nothing for anyone to suspect about his business interests, nothing at all. The coins and small bills went back to his pawn shop to fill out the cash register.

And the fifties went to Mrs. Gold.

As far as Gold was concerned, his wife existed for two reasons: To get fucked and to spend his money. He gave her at least a thousand dollars a week and expected her to show him the receipts of what she bought. Jewelry, clothes, useless gadgets that would get thrown away within a month. The most practical errand she ever ran was going to the grocer’s and buying whatever gourmet food they had to sell.

He liked her to go to as many places around Storybrooke as possible. Her mission was to flaunt his wealth and her sex. As many people as possible should see her, and they should all walk away knowing that she was nothing but a gold-digging fucktoy. That was what Gold wanted people to think about the woman he had married.

Rumpelstiltskin stood up from the desk with a heavy sigh. When was the last time he had been so tired? There was a watch in his trouser pocket. He pulled it out and saw that it was after midnight. Mrs. Gold would surely be asleep by now.

For a man who used a cane, Gold had an agonizing number of stairs in his house. Rumpelstiltskin made the climb with his free hand braced along the wall or the bannister. This house had been built in a time when guests and servants and large families were expected to take up space in a home. Perhaps that was why these dark halls and empty rooms felt more lonely than his castle in the old world ever had.

Belle had made that castle into a home for both of them. Even when she was his thing, she had explored and poked around. Her very presence had changed it, quite without her knowing what she was doing. She had made the place feel wanted, and by wanting it, she had made it her own.

Once she was his wife they had both been more deliberate about making the castle a place for her comfort. It had become a world of books and blankets, full of plush furniture big enough for them to snuggle up together. Heavy curtains had come down, and fires were always lit for warmth. Belle had brought light into his residence, and into his life.

Now, Rumpelstiltskin had to bring his own light into the gloom of Gold’s house. As he made his way to the master suite, he pushed buttons and switches to turn on the electric illumination.

But when he opened the door, a light was already lit for him. Adjoining Gold’s bedroom there was a separate sitting area, with a fireplace and a wardrobe and a set of cloth-upholstered chairs. Between the chairs, an antique table lamp gave off a red glow.

The lampshade was shaped like a crescent, with red beads dangling from the border on either side. The shade itself was covered with gold lace and embroidered silk roses. The light was dim and lurid. It was meant to be more alluring than illuminating. But it was better than the darkness in the hallway.

Mrs. Gold had left it on for when he came to bed. Gold never ordered her to do that. She had thought, she had planned. She wanted to welcome him, even in this small, silent way. She wanted to make him comfortable, in whatever way he allowed her.

“Are you awake?”

He gave the question softly to the darkness in the next room. All he got in answer was the sound of heavy breathing, a steady rhythm he knew so well. For a single, wonderful year, he and Belle had been together in their marriage. For so many nights, they had shared a bed. While she slept, he would stay awake beside her. Listening to her breathing had contented him as much as spinning.

He couldn’t look at the sleeping figure in Gold’s bed. Rumpelstiltskin went to the next room in this suite, the washroom. The light from the table lamp didn’t reach this far, so he shut the door to the bedroom before flipping the switch.

He scrubbed the filthy money off of his hands. He let his body go through a series of nighttime rituals he was too tired to try to understand. Without thought, took off his clothes and dressed in a pair of navy blue silk pajamas.

Gold’s side of the bed was near the wall. He would be able to get up without having to fumble for his cane. Rumpelstiltskin put the damn thing in the corner where it always went--where Gold’s body would know to find it at all hours of the day or night. Then he pulled back the blanket and got into bed with Mrs. Gold.

The movement didn’t wake her. Far too often, Rumpelstiltskin had only come to bed after Belle was already asleep, and he had learned how to keep from disturbing her. But even in sleep, Mrs. Gold was ready to welcome her husband. She scooted towards him without turning around and she wouldn’t stop until one of his legs was wrapped around her body, covering her, claiming her.

Exhausted beyond imagining and seeking any comfort he could find, Rumpelstiltskin didn’t pull away. He curled around her body and buried his face in her hair. He searched for the scent of Belle, underneath all of Mrs. Gold’s perfumes and products. His arm wrapped around her. She was so warm, so lovely. Her skin was smooth under his palms, soft as a rose petal. Half-asleep, Rumpelstiltskin stroked his wife’s arms, her sides. She felt so good to touch. And judging by her soft, slumbering noises, she enjoyed him touching her as well.

He wasn’t aware of how much skin he was touching until he felt the synthetic lace at her hip. Her underpants. Mrs. Gold had gone to bed wearing nothing but a pair of underpants. There was an obvious hole on the side. He remembered her words in the entryway. She had promised that she would be ready for him.

Ready for Gold.

Rumpelstiltskin’s hands balled into fists. He couldn’t bear to touch her anymore, but nor could he bear to let her go. Even as Mrs. Gold, she was too dear to him. In every other way, he was so far from Belle. He couldn’t allow even this scrap of her to slip through his fingers. In the dark of Gold’s bedroom, Rumpelstiltskin clung to his wife and wept.

#golden rings #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #Rumpelstiltskin

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years ago

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Somebody To You: 12

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CHAPTER TWELVE:

It was the first gray day in over a month. It hasn’t rained in LA since Jess’s birthday and the anniversary of her death. Zoey sat outside on the balcony with Binx on her lap, letting the gentle breeze nip at her skin. She always found it so peaceful right before a storm. She looked out at all of the car lights going up and down the surrounding streets - they looked like ants from the twenty-second floor.

She could hear the laughter from Brett and Nancy inside making fun of a horribly cast Indie movie and grinned, glad to have such great friends. She should have been inside getting ready for her date, but it was too calming out here to do that. She’d rather stay out here, listening to the palm trees rustle, the cars rush by, and the cat purr. She felt her phone buzz and she turned it over to see Harry trying to facetime her. Like Zoey, he had the day off today. He was in Arizona now, so they were in the same time zone, at least. She answered the call and held the phone at a better angle. Soon, Harry’s face came into view, swallowing a large bite of something.

“Are you eating dinner?” Zoey asked.

Harry panned down to show her his plate of pasta, “Room service,” he said.

“Nice. What’s going on? Bored?”

“Was supposed to head out in a few but my friends are stuck in traffic so I thought I’d call and see what’s up.”

“You have friends?” Zoey asked sarcastically, earning the middle finger from Harry as he took another huge bite of his pasta. She continued, “Nothing. Just sitting outside with Binx, waiting for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

“I’ve got a date.” Harry’s eyebrow raised suspiciously when Zoey quickly added, “It’s not with Brett. Although, he is here.”

“At your place? Is he with Rory?”

Zoey rolled her eyes, “No, Rory’s still working. He’s with Nancy. Would you chill? Nothing is going on between them.”

“It didn’t look like nothing,” Harry countered.

Zoey groaned, “You of all people should know that paparazzi pictures aren’t always what they seem. I told you I was with them that day, would you relax, you big baby? We talked about this.”

He sighed, putting his fork down and wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin, “I know. But I can’t help that I get jealous. It fucked me up.”

After their outing a few weeks ago, paparazzi had caught a picture of Aurora and Brett laughing together walking through the downtown area, of course cropping Zoey and Andy out of the background. She was obviously big news because she was newly famous, but also because of her recent connection with Harry, so people began speculating when they saw her out and about with a new hunky man. Brett ate that shit up like a cake, but Rory seemed a bit flustered by it. And Harry. He saw the pictures before any of them did. Well, that was all he needed to put his ass in gear.

At first, he was mad, calling Zoey while she was at work and interrogating her about the situation, freaking out. “I thought he was your boyfriend? I knew something was up with him! Why is Rory with him? Why didn’t you tell me?” He made an absolute ass out of himself. She’d never heard him so upset before. And Zoey felt bad, but she had to shut that shit down, telling him that if Rory was with someone, it wasn’t his concern since Rory isn’t technically his girlfriend and reminding him that Brett was not her boyfriend and she had no control over what another person says or does. Brett has been nothing but kind to everyone there and Harry didn’t need to drag other people down because of his own insecurities.

It was a long conversation and Harry really got his ass handed to him. He promptly apologized to Zoey and even sent her a bouquet of flowers for it, which was sweet. Although, Rory got an even bigger bouquet and a box of chocolate-covered strawberries after the conversation the two of them had with each other. Harry didn’t go into specifics with Zoey, but he did hint that he thought everything would be fine and they had an understanding. Still, it’s been a few weeks since this all went down and Harry still brought it up, his insecurities unwavering.

“Well, it wasn’t a date. They were literally just walking. Andy and I were right behind them. Besides, even if it was a date, she warned you that she wouldn’t wait forever. She told you that back in May. Your tour is over in less than two weeks. You’ve had months to give her an answer. Did you yet?”

“No,” Harry admitted. As soon as he saw the annoyance in Zoey’s eyes he hurriedly continued, “But I know what I want now. And I’m going to tell her. But I want to tell her in person. Or ask her in person, I guess.”

Zoey’s eyes widened, lighting up a bit, “You’re finally going to ask her out?”

“Well, my last show is in Portland the Friday after next and I was going to head back home to London on Sunday, but I was thinking about making a stop there before I go. Maybe surprise her. I’m not sure yet. I might get too impatient and just do it over Facetime if I can’t get a flight there right after the concert.”

Zoey grinned excitedly, “That’s really sweet, H. I’m happy for you.”

Harry blushed, smiling, “Thanks. Hopefully she’ll say yes.”

“Well you’re not proposing, and I know she really likes you, so I’m sure she will. I mean, you’re basically dating as it is. You two are still good, right?”

“I think so. I mean, we haven’t talked a ton because we’re just on opposite schedules right now, but when we do talk it seems alright.”

“Good. Then you have nothing to worry about,” Zoey grinned.

They talked for a bit more, but as the time neared her having to leave she decided to hang up and start getting ready. The restaurant her date was taking her to was pretty nice, so she dressed up in a shin-length, long sleeve sleek black dress with a bit of a shoulder and a slit going up the side, some pointed black heels, and put her dirty blonde hair in a low bun with strands dangling to frame her face. When she stepped out to say goodbye to Nancy and Brett, they both looked her up and down, Nancy letting out hollers and Brett whistling.

“You look hot!” Nancy yelped as Brett shook his head in awe.

“This guy better watch it! I don’t know if he can handle you. Trust me. I’d know,” he winked.

Zoey shook her head, laughing and heading towards the door, “Bye guys. Be on standby in case I need a quick out!” she called, grabbing her keys and heading to her car. She never liked to be picked up on a first date. She always drove herself and met her date at the location.

Meanwhile, Mitch and Adam had finally gotten back from their trip to town. Normally Harry made it a point not to drink during the tour, but he made an exception tonight. They had off for three days and a bunch of people from the tour was going out, so why not? Besides, it was a Tuesday night. It wouldn’t be too crazy.

So, with rings on his fingers, layered necklaces, a brown shirt, navy trousers, and a lime green blazer, Harry headed out to the bars with his friends. They had filled a good portion of the bar in town, and he quickly became friendly with the owner, taking pictures and making a quick video for his daughter at home while making the rounds to the members of staff and getting drinks for everyone.

Drink after drink the weight on his shoulders began to lessen and he felt looser, eyes more bloodshot, and making more jokes. His spotted Mitch and Adam on the couch in the corner and made his way over, plopping on the edge of the seat next and flinging an arm around Adam.

“You guys having a good time?” Harry slurred a bit.

“Yeah, man, this is great,” Harry nodded.

“Looks like you're having a good time,” Mitch smirked.

“I’m great!” Harry announced, looking out at everyone smiling and laughing and having a good time. He frowned a bit, “Tour’s almost over. A week and a half left.”

“What are you gonna do when it’s done? Start recording?”

“Eventually,” Harry nodded, “I’m gonna go back to London and see some family for a bit. I think I’m going to stop back in LA first, though.”

“What, to see Zoey?” Mitch teased earning a little chuckle from Adam.

“Nooo,” Harry exaggerated, head wobbling as the drinks kicked in more, “To see Rory. I’m going to ask her out.”

Both Mitch and Adam’s eyes widened and they simply said, “Oh.”

“I didn’t even know you still talked to her,” Adam confessed, “Well, congrats, man.”

“Did you tell Zoey yet?” Mitch asked.

Harry nodded, taking another sip of his drink, “Yeah, I was just on the phone with her before you got back and told her. Why?”

Mitch shrugged, “I don’t know, just curious what she said about it.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, “She’s happy about it. She’s friends with Rory, too. She’s my best friend, dude. We don’t like each other.”

Mitch nodded and Adam asked, “So when do we get to meet her? Is she going to come to the last concert or something? Maybe visit us in London?”

Harry shook his head, slurring some more, “No, she’s got work that day and she never calls off. And she’s never been out of the country yet. I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll meet her one day. She’s cool, you’ll like her. It’s like once you start talking to her you can’t stop. Like she never runs out of things to say. Not in an annoying way, it’s like there’s never an awkward silence, you know? You’ll see.” Adam and Mitch shared a look before changing the subject.

The second she got to the restaurant it began to drizzle. She made it just in time. Her date was a patron she met at the bar named Eric. He was older than her by about six years but was always very friendly when he came in. He was very clearly an important businessman, as were most people that came into her work, not that she really cared about that. She found most wealthier businessmen were typically creeps or jerks or some combination of the two, so Eric seemed like a breath of fresh air. He always dressed in the nicest suits and had his hair perfectly styled, sporting a different expensive watch each day.

He stood from his seat when he saw her walking in and gave her a friendly hug, kissing her cheek before she sat opposite of him. Nice restaurants always had the worst lighting. She could hardly see anything in the dim lighting, the candle in between them illuminated upwards, casting quite creepy shadows on Eric’s face.

He smiled and practically growled, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she grinned, brushing the hair away from her eyes.

“I’ve already placed an order for you, I hope that’s okay. I remember you saying you liked salmon and this place really has the best.”

“Oh, great, thanks,” she grinned, taking a sip of water. Zoey hated when people ordered for her. She knew he meant well, and at least it wasn’t just a salad, but he couldn’t have waited for her to look at the menu first? What if she wasn’t in the mood for salmon. She put the glass down, “Thanks for doing this on a Tuesday. I know I’ve got a really strange schedule.”

“It’s not a problem. I’d have done any day of the week if it meant I got to have dinner with you.”

The line might have worked, but it sounded weird coming from his mouth. Eric seemed different when he was alone compared to when he was surrounded by colleagues at her bar. Even with his cheesy pickup lines, he seemed less confident here. Shyer. More out of his comfort zone.

Still, she smiled politely and continued the conversation, “So, why are you single? LA’s got a lot of pickings. Not a great dating scene? You know I’m fairly new here so I’m just getting the hang of it.”

Eric swallowed, nodding a bit, “Well, truth be told I’m not too sure myself. I just got out of a pretty long relationship, so I’m new to the dating scene, too.”

“Really? How long were you two together?”

“About nine years.”

“Nine years? Wow, that’s a long time.”

He nodded, “Yeah, it was pretty rough. We were actually set to get married this month before she broke it off.’

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

She listened to him talk more about his ex. He talked so much that he barely ate a bite of food when their dinners were brought out. And the more he talked, the more emotional he seemed to get. By the time she had finished her salmon, he was practically in tears. The conversation turned more to a therapy session and ended with her trying to convince him of his worth. That, even though she’s sure his ex was a lovely girl for someone, no girl is worth losing sleep over if they’re not as equally invested into the relationship as their partner. And by the time they were getting ready to leave, Eric seemed more happy and confident than she had ever seen him.

Eric laughed as they stood up and headed for the door, “Sorry about all that. I guess I’m still not exactly over it.”

Zoey waved him off, “Don’t apologize. I completely understand.”

When they got into the landing of the restaurant they peered outside at the downpour of rain. The roadways looked like streams and the streetlights reflected against the water, making it look like it sparkled against the night sky.

“Ready to make a run for it?” Eric asked, holding onto the door handle.

When Zoey nodded, he pushed the door open and they ran, cold water splashing up against her leg with each step, shielding her eyes as the rain pelted against them. When they made it to the parking garage, soaked, he shook the water off his arms and groaned, “I’ll need to get this suit to the cleaners now.” He looked down at Zoey and smiled, moving a strand of hair that had been slicked down with water on her forehead to the side of her face, “Thank you. For tonight.”

“Goodluck, Eric,” she smiled kindly at him, kissing his cheek before getting in her car. She gave him a little wave as she pulled out and drove away.

Zoey drove home in silence, reflecting on the date. She felt bad for him, truly. But what was it with men pining for women who they treated poorly? Why was it so hard for men to see what they had when they had it and not when it was too late? What a waste of a date. She was really looking forward to this one, too.

By the time she pulled into her condo’s parking garage, it was a little past midnight. Her dress was disgustingly damp and clung to her skin like plastic wrap and her heels squeaked with every step she took. Once in the lobby, Zoey bent down to undo the straps on her heels and pulled them off, letting her bare feet on the cold marble floor. She carried her heels in one hand and headed towards the elevator, pressing the button. When the elevator finally reached the ground floor and the doors opened, she was surprised to see Brett heading out.

He laughed when he saw her, “Was your date outside? You're soaked.”

She smiled, happy to see a familiar, emotionally available man after that horrible date, “I’m cold, too.”

“Where’s your date? Couldn’t handle you?”

“Something like that,” she grinned, “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, Nancy went to bed.”

“And Rory’s not back yet?”

“Nope, not yet.”

Zoey thought for a moment before stepping a bit closer to him, “Well...you can stay if you want?”

Brett thought for a moment, looking her up and down before backing up a bit, “I’m...uh...actually getting a bit tired. Raincheck?”

“Oh, yeah. No problem,” Zoey stammered, getting red in the cheeks, “I should take a shower anyway. Get out of this wetsuit of a dress.”

She frowned a bit, looking into his eyes. It might not seem like that big of a deal, but she and Brett haven’t had sex in a week. He’d had every opportunity and hint thrown his way, but it either went right over his head or he made an excuse. He’d been on the phone a lot more at work recently and knew that he had gone on a date with that redheaded waitress from the restaurant they went to a few weeks ago, so she assumed things had gotten serious between the two, but couldn’t he have just told her that?

He nodded and smiled a tight grin and she watched as he headed towards the door. Before he could even pull it open, Aurora walked through, colliding into him.

“Oh, hey!” She chirped, looking up to see both Brett and Zoey standing there. “You leaving?” she asked Brett.

He nodded, muttering, “Yeah. I’m tired.”

“Okay. See you later,” she said, heading over towards Zoey.

The two girls got onto the elevator and Rory took a long look at her roommate, “Did you get stuck in the rain?” she asked.

Zoey nodded, motioning to herself, “This happened in less than three seconds.”

“I like your outfit. Why all dressed up?”

She wiped some water that was dripping down her forehead from her hair and said, “I had a date tonight.”

“Oh, with Brett?”

“No, some guy I met at work. Let’s just say there won’t be a second date,” Rory laughed as the elevator doors opened on their floor and they stepped out. Zoey continued as she punched in the code to get into their apartment, “You going to bed?”

Rory nodded, exasperatedly sighing, “Yeah, I’m exhausted. I’ll see you in the morning.”

They split up when they got inside, Rory going to her bedroom while Zoey went into hers. She stared at herself in the mirror and gasped. Streaks of mascara running down her cheeks from the rain, and her baby hairs starting to curl from the dampness. She did her best to wipe the makeup off, but there were still some residuals left. Really, she should be taking a shower right now, but she wasn’t in the mood. She couldn’t stop thinking about Eric and how much he missed his ex. It reminded him of Michael and how desperately he tried to hold onto her before she left.

She picked up her phone and searched through her contacts, finding the one she wanted, pressing the button for FaceTime call. Within seconds, the screen widened and Harry’s face popped up.

“Hello!” He sang, grinning, the picture shaking a bit as he was unsteady, clearly walking.

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Nope, I’m actually just getting back to the hotel now. What’s up?” he asked, dropping a set of keys, his wallet, and a few other knick-knacks on the desk before stumbling and plopping on the bed and taking a look at her. He blew out a chuckle, “What happened to you?”

She grinned, “It was raining.”

“How was your date?”

She extended her camera out further and spun, panning the room, “Do you say anyone here with me?”

Harry smiled, “Bad, huh? You look lovely, though.”

“Thanks. Aside from the makeup running down my face and my hair a frizzy mess,” she groaned, wiping more water from her forehead, “I had to comfort this man so he wouldn’t cry about his ex-girlfriend.”

Harry winced, slurring, “At least you got a free meal out of it. That sounds really good right now. I should order room service,” he sat up, scanning his room, “should I get dessert or a meal? Or both?” he asked himself.

Zoey laughed, amused, “Are you drunk?”

He whipped his head at the phone, “No! I’m buzzed.”

She shook her head, “I should get a glass of wine and get buzzed, too.”

“The boys were asking about you tonight,” he said abruptly.

“The boys? Who are the boys and are they single?”

“Mitch and Adam. They’re in my band, and no, they’re not single,” Harry rolled his eyes, making Zoey sarcastically groan, “They were wondering when they were going to meet you.”

Zoey furrowed her eyes in confusion. Harry never really talked about his other friends with her. Obviously she knew he had other friends, but he figured that they were in such a different circle than her that they just never came up in conversation and Zoey just assumed that it would have been the same situation in his other friend groups where he didn’t talk about her. So to hear that they not only knew about her but were interested in meeting her was news.

“Oh, so you’re saying you talk about me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, you’re my best friend,” he said.

Zoey paused, seeing the look in Harry’s face. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He was serious. She felt her heart melt at those words. He’d been the one person she’d met since Jess died that she felt like she could be 100% herself around no matter the circumstance. She never had to censor herself in fear of hurting his feelings or saying the wrong thing, and vice versa. Zoey always considered Harry to be one of her best friends, too, but she never said anything in fear of him not feeling the same way considering how many friends he had. But to hear the words come out of his mouth was a reassurance she never knew she needed.

“I’m your best friend?” she repeated.

Harry’s eyes widened, sobering up quickly at the realization of what he just revealed. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, was that awkward?”

She shook her head, “No, it’s not awkward, H. We talk every day about literally the most disgusting things. You couldn’t make me feel awkward. I just didn’t know you considered me one of your best friends, so that’s nice to hear.”

“Are you going to tell me I’m your best friend, too, or is this going to be that heart-wrenching situation where your best friend has a different best friend than you? Because don’t do that to me,” Harry joked.

Zoey laughed, “You’re a close second behind Binx.”

“The cat outranks me?” He gasped, before nodding understandably, “I get it.”

She shook her head, pursing her lips, “Ew, who would have thought that your best friend would be some rando from Pennsylvania?”

He grinned, “It doesn’t matter where you’re from. I was just talking to Mitch about this the other day. And I don’t want you to read into it, because it’s not that serious, but I honestly feel like you’re my soulmate. In a completely non-creepy way. Don’t laugh, I’m trying to be honest,” Harry flushed, embarrassed. Zoey bit her lips before waving, continuing him along, but finding it hard to hide her smile. He spoke again, “I just can’t imagine not having you in my life. Like, you’re the one person I can go to about anything at the end of the day and feel better about everything, you know? You keep me from going insane and I love you.”

After a moment of silence, Zoey smirked and jokingly said, “...Oh my god, are we about to kiss?”

“Shut up!” Harry laughed, “I’m serious.”

“I love you too, H.” she giggled, putting her chin in her hand, “You’re my best friend and I’m grateful for you every day. You saved me.” She got more serious, “ I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here and I don’t think I thank you enough for that.”

He shook his head, “You do. You thank me every day by just existing.” They smiled at each other for a moment before Harry spoke again, “Alright, yuck. We’re done with the mushy shit now. Let’s get back to talking shit about your date.”

The conversation continued as if nothing had happened, but both parties now had a deep sense of profound consideration for each other. She loved that stupid, annoying boy. Not like a lover, not like a brother or a family member or a friend, she just simply loved him beyond all sense of meaning. She loved his existence and his entire being and he loved her as well. She was his person.

“Did Rory ever get back home?” Harry asked.

Zoey nodded, “She walked in like four seconds after me. She went right to be, though.”

“I’m getting nervous about asking her out, now.”

Zoey rolled her eyes, chuckling, “Shut up, you know she’ll say yes. She’s been waiting this long. Why wouldn’t she?”

He didn’t know. He just had a weird feeling that something wrong was going to happen. He couldn’t shake it. Just as he was about to speak her hard a loud crack. Zoey’s room went dark, causing her to shriek.

“You okay?” he asked, sitting up straight.

“The power just went out,” she said, looking out of her window at the raging storm. It didn’t seem to affect any other building, just hers. A minute later there was another, deeper, cracking noise and what sounded to be a rush of water. “What the hell was that?” she asked, walking towards her door, and she gasped, loudly, “Oh my fucking god! Water! My room is flooding.”

KEEP READING

------------------------

Taglist:

@thurhomish @stilljosiegrossie

#Harry Styles #Harry #H #Harry Styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #one direction smut #one direction #one direction fluff #one direction fanfic #one direction imagine #one direction fan fic

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shesclearlya3 · 5 years ago

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Dancing With a Stranger P.1

@iits-mikha asked: n a recent interview they asked Cody if he could have the opportunity to play another character he would had chosen to be the Countess, So my request is this: an AU where old!Michael where he’s not the antichrist but is the owner of the Hotel Cortez, please!!

I’m really nervous about this since it’s my first time writing for our boi Michael. I hope I delivered! I decided to make Michael 34 as, I am not too familiar with the Older!tag, but this seemed like a popular range.

pairing: Older!Michael x Reader

word count: 1,973

warnings: au!, language, seductive-boi, there will be a 2nd part!

part 2

October 29th, 2019

You stood next to your best friend, Winter Anderson, as you both stared up at the Hotel Cortez. You two were going to spend the next few days at Halloween Horror Nights, and this was the only hotel you two could afford. Universal was expensive, plus you knew you'd only be here to sleep, that's it.

"Are you ready, you seem kind of nervous," Winter asked, raising a manicured eyebrow at you. You smiled, nodding while tightening your grip on your suitcase.

"I'm fine, we can go inside," you said. You followed Winter into the hotel, gaping at the wonderous exterior. You had never seen so much red in your life. The lobby was huge, and you were slightly taken aback at how empty it was.

You stopped at the front desk, peering around it. An older, slightly plump woman sat in the chair, a worn-out romance novel in her hands. She was so entranced in the book that she didn't notice your arrival.

"Excuse me?" Winter piped up.

"OH!" she gasped, a hand flying to her chest. It startled you, but you managed to contain the laugh that bubbled in your throat. "I apologize, I didn't- yeah," she laughed, standing up. "I'm Iris, can I have the name for your reservation?"

"Anderson. Winter Anderson,"

Iris flipped open a folder, running a finger down the names before stopping. "There you are," she whispered. You frowned, wondering why they didn't just use computers like other hotels did. Iris reached behind her, grabbing a key from the shelf behind her. She handed it to you.

"Let me show you to your room," she said, smiling. You liked to see the good in people, but there was something off about the look in her eyes. Winter seemed to have gotten the same vibe because she kept pace with you instead.

The elevator ride to the fifth floor was claustrophobic. You tugged at the neck of your shirt, praying for the moment you and Winter were alone. Maybe you'd spend the night out instead of catching up on sleep, you had to be up early for your flight here from Michigan.

The doors slowly opened, before Iris led you down just a few doors. "Room 537," she said, before unlocking the door. She gestured for you guys to go first, and you smiled and thanked her.

The room was nothing too special, but you get what you paid for. Since you and Winter wanted to stretch your money as much as possible, you settled on sharing a bed. Winter set her stuff down, as Iris mentioned some of the things the hotel offered, including a bar downstairs.

"What brings you two lovely ladies to Los Angeles?" Iris asked kindly, and you felt your nerves from earlier slowly disapparate.

"We're going to Universal Studios, we're ready to get our asses scared, right, y/n?" Winter looked at you eagerly.

"Of course! Have you been there, by chance?" you asked Iris.

"Oh, years ago, I took my son Donovan," Iris exclaimed, seeming to be truly happy for the short length of time you knew her. "I'm sure lots have changed since then..."

Awkward silence.

"Well, I must get back to the front desk. If there's anything you two need, give us a call," Iris said, already turning towards the door. She set your room keys on the table, then she was gone.

You and Winter spent the next hour organizing your stuff. You usually left your things in your suitcase while staying in a hotel, but since you'd be here until November 2nd, you didn't want your clothes to be wrinkled.

"I think we should go down and get a drink, those seats on the plane were not comfortable," Winter complained as you organized your toiletries.

You glanced at your phone, seeing it wasn't too late. You and Winter planned on getting to the park first thing in the morning. "Who is buying? NOSE-"

"-GOES!" Winter said, whirling at you with a finger to her nose. You squinted at her before you spent the next few minutes trying to touch your nose before Winter.

Finally, you humored her and said you'd pay for drinks the first night.

Since you both had dressed comfortably for the flight, you changed into more acceptable clothes. Your favorite jeans and an off-shoulder top. Winter tied her blonde hair up into a half-down, half-up bun, and you set on your way.

There was only one other patron at the bar, and he didn't seem to pay you much attention. At least at first.

A tall woman with a shaved head and makeup talked to him, her eyes lightening up at everything he said. You and Winter took the seats farthest away, not wanting to seem like you were eavesdropping.

"Hilarious, Tristan," she gently scolded. "Hang on, my services are needed elsewhere," she laughed another time before approaching the two of you. "And who do we have here?"

"My name is Winter, and this is y/n," Winter said proudly.

"Welcome to the Cortez, I'm Liz. Liz Taylor," she offered her hand to the both of you, and you shook it with a smile. "Now, you seem to be old enough to drink, but I need to see your ID's. I am a woman of responsibility-"

The guy named Tristan laughed aloud at the end of the table.

"Ignore him, he drinks," Liz smiled as you and Winter laid your ID's out. "Perfect, what can I get for you?"

The last thing you wanted was to wake up with a hangover, so you kept it simple. Winter didn't have the same concern since she ordered a Screwdriver.

Liz was very enjoyable to talk too, and eventually, Tristan felt left out. He sat at the stool next to him, and you found out they had been dating a few months now. They were totally in love, and it showed whenever they looked at each other.

"I wish somebody loved me like that," Winter sighed.

"You will find someone, love. The both of you will." Liz smiled.

The energy in the room suddenly changed.

Everyone else kept talking and laughing, but you could feel it. You knew it wasn't the alcohol, this drink was more juice than anything. The sound of the elevator beeping, and the doors sliding open finally piqued their interest.

"Oh boy," Liz said flatly. Tristan chugged the rest of his whiskey before looking at you. You smiled briefly, wondering why they both seemed so on edge.

You and Winter seemed to be in a trance as a man slowly stepped out, his lean figure in perfect posture. He kept his hands behind his back, and you wondered if it was really comfortable walking like that. His hair was close to being strawberry blonde, and it reached his shoulders. This mysterious man kept his focus ahead, his gait elegant and intimidating.

"Who is that?" Winter asked.

"That's Michael- uh, the Count?" Tristan said, stuttering when Liz shot him a warning glance.

"What is this, Seasame Street?" Winter snorted. You couldn't help but laugh a little too loudly, but immediately stopped when Michael- the Count, turned his head in your direction.

From the side, you could see his excellent bone structure, but it didn't prepare you for getting a good look at him. His cheekbones, his jawline, his eyes immediately drew you in. Michael stared at you for what seemed like an eternity before he broke your gaze. He continued on his way, a smirk now prominent on his lips.

"Ooooooooh, he was looking at you," Winter teased, bringing her glass to her painted lips.

"Hush," you whispered. Tristan and Liz were still staring at each other, almost like they were having a conversation entirely in their heads.

"Who is he again?" you questioned.

"He owns the hotel," Liz sighed. "He can be nice when he wants to be, but for the most part, he is a pain in my ass," she continued. "I can't talk shit for long, he saved my life, and Tristan's here."

"For sure, babe," Tristan hiccuped, patting the hand Liz had on the countertop. "I used to be a model, but that environment was so fucking toxic, Michael- shit! COUNT got me out of it, got me help, and here I am," he giggled, before leaning his head on your arm.

"I think that's enough for you, mister," Liz said, taking the empty glass and replacing it with water. Tristan pouted, taking a dainty sip. You and Winter watched with amusement, and you could smell his cologne. It was quite nice.

"Do you think he'd talk to y/n?" Winter continued with her teasing, and you couldn't hide the blush on your cheeks. "I'd totally tap that if his hair was a bit shorter-"

Liz laughed, "Oh honey, he hasn't had short hair since ninety-nine, and he was a kid back then,"

You looked at her with a confused look, "Wait, how old is he?"

"I'm thirty-four," you froze at the sound of a velvety voice. "Don't you know it's not polite to ask a man his age?"

You and Winter shared a quick look, before slowly turning in your stools to face him. Tristan cleared his throat, taking a deep sip of water this time.

Michael smirked at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. You tried to laugh with him but found you couldn't make a sound. Winter was still gazing at you with a sense of excitement and an "oh shit, you're in for it now," look.

"I uh, I'm sorry, Mr...?"

"Langdon," he finished for you. A smirk still plastered on his face, "However, I do find it rather endearing that two complete strangers seem to fret so much about my life," he said, his eyes now sliding towards Winter, who looked away in embarrassment.

Liz had made you another drink while Michael occupied your time, making this one stronger than the first. You'd need it after this.

"You have such great eyeshadow," Winter said randomly, "It's perfect, really compliments your face,"

Michael's lips curled at this, but he found his eyes still trained on you. You were uncomfortable under his gaze. Like most of the human population, you hated being stared at.

"How long are you two ladies staying?" he asked.

"We leave Saturday morning," you answered without hesitation. Michael raised his eyebrow at your confidence. He assumed you were a bit of a hermit.

"Interesting... I'm going to extend an invitation to you, y/n," he said. You didn't bother to ask how he knew your name. "Halloween night, You're going to join me for dinner. I don't do this often, as you know," he said, directing this part to Liz.

Liz didn't say anything until he widened his eyes at her, and that's when it clicked. "Oh, yes, never does this, never," she shook her head. Michael rolled his eyes before bringing a hand to his head. You noticed the large rings adorning his fingers, wondering if you could pay off your bills with those things.

"I dislike when people talk about me, especially strangers," he smirked at you, "I find it rather rude, wouldn't you agree?" Michael pressed, waiting for a chorus of agreements.

And of course, he got them.

"Good. I'll have Iris keep you updated, y/n," Michael's eyes ran over you before he nodded towards the others. "And don't break anything, the other ones learned the hard way."

Michael walked off, still poised as if he were meeting royalty. You remained quiet as you swirled back in your seat, taking your new drink and chugging it. Winter grinned at you.

"Is he always like that?" you asked the couple beside you, who continued to stare at you.

"Weirdly arousing and complex? Always." Liz replied before taking a shot of Vodka.

*if you want to be added to this taglist, you know the drill.*

#michael langdon x reader #cody fern #ahs hotel #au!michael #older!michael #jim mason x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #xavier plympton x reader #michael langdon imagine #asks #michael langdon #winter anderson #liz taylor #tristan duffy

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spicyswords-inc · 4 years ago

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Journey To The Agarthan Cache - An FE3H pirates!au - Chapter One

I’ve been working on this epic for literally over a month now with the ever lovely @goldendeer-crescentmoon. It is entirely self-indulgent and includes both our OCs (who you’ll meet later in the story). I just love it so much that I wanted to share it. I hope y’all enjoy!

Mini-tag list: @heyy-ahriii, @fantastiqueparfait, @claudemblems, @eelkonig

Felix landed with a small hup as he jumped over the property’s fence with practiced ease. He could distantly hear the voices of his friends, Sylvain and Ingrid, calling for him. But he didn’t care. He’d finally had enough.

Looking over his shoulder and then around him to make sure he was in the clear, Felix swiftly dusted himself off before running towards the street. The scene from earlier that day kept on replaying in his mind.

“Felix, my son.”

The young man in question heard the voice of his father behind him but chose to ignore him. Gripping the hilt of his sword tighter in his hand, he glared at the training dummy in front of him before rushing forward and striking it with a flurry of attacks.

“Felix,” Rodrigue tried again, his voice holding a bit more edge.

Felix released a heavy sigh and looked over his shoulder towards his father. “Can’t you see that I’m busy, old man?”

“This conversation will only take a moment, provided you actually comply and listen to what I have to say,” Rodrigue mused as he gestured towards one of the steps jutting above the manor’s training ground. “Sit with me, won’t you?”

“Why? Can’t whatever needs to be discussed be done from where both you and I stand?”

Rodrigue sighed while bringing a hand to rest against his temple. “I suppose.” The older man cleared his throat. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve been… repeatedly absent from your lessons in etiquette, the history of Faerghus, political affairs… I’m sure I could go on and on.”

“What’s your point?” Felix asked pointedly, his hand draped over the handle of his sword.

“My point, son, is that there’s a reason you have to partake in those lessons. It’s so that you can carry on-”

“‘-the Fraldarius family legacy and rise to the title of Duke so that, should the time ever come, I can aid his majesty.’” Felix prattled on, interrupting his father while he rattled off the words with an air of annoyance. “Did I miss anything?”

“Just one,” Rodrigue pointed out matter-of-factly. “You also need to be able to impress any potential suitors so that the Crest of Fraldarius lives on.”

“I have neither time nor interest for suitors.”

“Then make some.”

“Why?” Felix shot back immediately. He finally looked his father in the eyes with a similar copper-hued gaze.

“For the sake of our legacy-”

“For the sake of your legacy,” Felix interrupted.

“Are you not a Fraldarius?” Rodrigue exclaimed, his anger rising.

“I’m me!” Felix yelled, pointing a thumb towards himself. “I’m more than just an heir to a ‘legacy’ that I neither had a choice or interest in.”

Rodrigue stared at his son. His eyebrows were set in a scowl while his fists were clenched at his sides. He was just about to speak his mind until a familiar red-head and blonde walked through the doors to the Fraldarius sparring grounds.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Felix,” Sylvain said as he raised a hand in greeting. He sent his friend a wink and a content smirk until he noticed the older Fraldarius at the other side of the space.

“Lord Rodrigue!” Sylvain exclaimed, immediately sending a short bow the noble’s ways. “I didn’t see you there.” An uncomfortable silence settled atop the grounds. “...We’re not interrupting anything are we?”

“Not at all,” Felix responded plainly. He sent a pointed glare towards his father before walking towards his two friends. “Are you ready for training or what?”

Both Ingrid and Sylvain glanced nervously between both Fraldarius men. “If you guys need a moment, please don’t pause on our account-”

“No, no, we were just about finished,” Rodrigue said, cutting Ingrid off. “Just think on what I said, son. One way or another you will do what’s expected of you as the heir to the Fraldarius Dukedom.”

“What about what I want,” Felix angrily muttered to himself as he distanced himself from the estate. Ever since they’d lost his older brother, Glenn, his father had come down harder and harder on him to “fulfill his role” and “maintain the Fraldarius legacy”. He grit his teeth and quickened his pace the more he thought about it.

There were things he wanted to do before being tied down with all of those expectations. For starters, he wanted to see all of Fodlan. He didn’t care how he went about doing so; he’d settle for being a wandering swordsman or lowly cabin boy aboard a nasty pirate ship if it meant he got to actually be out in the world and experience it.

Soft moonlight gleamed against the small, detailed golden stitches of Felix’s navy blue waistcoat as he followed the road that led into town. He’d snuck out so many times, especially when he was younger, that he could probably make his way to the square with his eyes closed. Quick images of impromptu outings with his brother flashed in his mind. Felix quickened his pace and shook his head to dispel the thoughts.

‘You should be here to carry on the legacy. Not me.’

As soon as Felix reached the square, he let his legs carry him towards where he always went when he was upset: the tavern. Stepping through the large doorway leading inside, Felix sighed heavily as the sounds of the tavern surrounded him as he entered: glasses clinking, hearty conversation, and jovial laughter galore. Expertly weaving himself around the usual patrons, crowd, and staff with practiced ease, the young noble made his way to the bar and raised a hand half-committedly to get the bartender’s attention.

“Ah, if it isn’t the young, posh noble,” the bartender teased, reveling in the scowl Felix sent his way. “What can I do ya for tonight, lad?”

“You know what I want,” Felix huffed before averting his gaze. While the bartender got to preparing his drink--a pint of ale and not a drop more--Felix held his head in his hands.

He was tired of being told what he could and couldn’t do. He hadn’t asked to be born a noble’s son, yet here he was still stuck with the obligations and responsibilities that come with the position. The whole situation was just damn frustrating. Felix not only wanted to see the world; he wanted to live life the way he wanted. There was more to Fodlan and life than just the Fraldarius estate.

The clink of glass atop hardwood brought Felix’s attention back to the bartender, who was sending him an almost sympathetic smile.

“Did yer father chew you out again?”

Felix took a sip of his ale and let the refreshing liquid wash down his throat before responding. “What’s it to you?”

“Well, you only ever come in here when yer sulking.”

Felix slammed his glass atop the counter in frustration. “I-I do not!” Though his words said one thing, the slight dust of pink on his cheeks said another. The bartender did his best to hold in a laugh before inquiring again.

“Alright then. If you’re not here to sulk, why are you here?”

“Does it really matter to you? Shouldn’t you just be happy you’re getting my money?” All it took was a cocked eyebrow from the bartender whilst he cleaned an empty glass for Felix to finally spill the beans. “Alright, fine. Yes, the old man yelled at me.” Felix took another sip of his drink. “Gave me a whole damn lecture on how it’s my responsibility to ‘uphold the Fraldarius legacy’.” Felix said almost mockingly. “But that’s not what I want to do.”

“And why’s that?”

Felix blinked incredulously at the man before darting his gaze towards the counter. When he didn’t offer a reply, the bartender sighed and turned towards the other end of the bar.

“I’m just sayin’ that you’ve got it better than most, son.” The bartender mentioned almost somberly. He gingerly set the glass he was cleaning atop the counter before continuing. “Besides, I’m sure your father just wants what’s best for you.”

“What makes you say that?”

The bartender smiled softly. “Because all parents want what’s best for their children.”

Felix chugged the remainder of his ale before slamming his glass against the counter a second time. “Whatever.” Fishing a copper piece from his pocket, he flicked it towards the bartender before forcefully shoving his stool against the bar. As soon as he turned around, he collided into someone behind him.

“O-Oh, I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you at all?”

Felix shot a glare towards the person he ran into but immediately softened it when he got a full look at her appearance. Standing before him was a small young woman who couldn’t have been older than he was. She wore a simple, pale dark-green blouse with flowing ¾ sleeves tied tightly in the middle with string and a layered, dark grey skirt with a brown half-overskirt. Coupled with simple ankle high boots and black knee-length stockings, she looked like the last person you’d expect to see in a place like this.

Felix merely scoffed before shoving past her. “Just watch where you’re going next time.”

“Right! Sorry again!” the girl exclaimed before sending a small bow his way.

Felix couldn’t help but find himself confused and intrigued by the out-of-place looking girl. He frequented the bar enough to know that she wasn’t a regular. And compared to the personage he was used to dealing with, he didn’t peg her as the type to hit up bars much to begin with. Allowing himself the slightest of smirks, Felix made his way towards the entrance of the tavern and turned to watch as the girl talked with the bartender. While he had no idea what they were talking about, he surmised that whatever it was involved the bartender having to go out of his way to get something for her, if her continual bows of apology meant anything.

“There’s no way she’s asking for a drink. She’s so small that the minute the drink hit her system she’d be passed out on the floor,” Felix muttered to himself, stopping midstep. Yet, to his surprise, the bartender came back with several clear vials filled with what Felix assumed was alcohol. He had to hold in a chuckle as the girl sent the bartender one more bow and nearly dropped all of the vials she’d just received.

“Are you just going to stand there and gawk?”

Felix slowly shifted his gaze towards the voice speaking to him while a hand came to rest atop the hilt of his sword. “So what if I am?”

The man staring down at him was the exact image of snootiness in Felix’s mind; donning a purple overcoat, gaudy white dress shirt with billowy sleeves, black trousers, and very tall boots was a man with a horrendous, dark purple bowl-cut and look of disgust. “I’ll have you know that it’s quite rude to stare and block entryways, young man.” The individual gave him a onceover. “I figured you’d be a noble with the way you’re dressed, but with such horrible manners perhaps I was mistaken.”

Felix could swear he felt a vein rise in his forehead. Adjusting his grip around the sword he always kept at his side, he was just about to draw it and teach the jerk some manners until a familiar sounding voice joined the fray.

“Ah, Lorenz! Here you are,” the young woman greeted as she made her way towards them. “Thanks so much for waiting for me,” she added with a smile before locking eyes with Felix for just a second.

“Not a problem. Let’s get going, though. I can’t say I’m too fond of the company here in this tavern.” Before Felix could do much else, the pretentious looking fellow -- whom he assumed was Lorenz going off what the girl’d said -- firmly but gently pushed the girl forward and out of the tavern. Felix continued to stare before sheathing what little of his sword he’d drawn back into its scabbard.

Felix glared at the absurd looking couple walking away before rubbing the back of his neck harshly in irritation. “Damn bastard. Maybe someone should teach him a bit of manners,” he mused before looking up to glance at the quickly departing couple.

‘Besides, I want to find out why a girl like her would hang around a guy like him.’

With that resolution made, Felix waited a while longer before following behind them in quiet pursuit.

#Fire Emblem Three Houses #fe3h #fe3h oc #pirates!au #fe3h fanfic #felix fraldarius #felix hugo fraldarius #Lorenz Gloucester #lorenz hellman gloucester #my oc #journey to the agarthan cache

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 5 years ago

Note

Could you continue the story of Ahk becoming mortal and go into him adjusting to his new like with the reader? He could be clingy and protective of the the reader. Thanks!

Here’s another cute piece I did for post-mortal Ahk, but here’s a new fic with the focus on Ahk being very protective (and a little insecure at the start).

* * * * *

“Are you sure this looks alright?” Ahkmenrah asked as he gave himself yet another solemn up and down in the full-length mirror.

“You look hot,” you stated with finality, your eyes traveling over the well-fitted trousers of his dark blue suit.

“And ‘hot’ is a good thing?”

“Yup,” you said as you moved between Ahkmenrah and the mirror, resting your hands on his chest and forcing his eyes to move to yours—at least they did before they flicked back to the mirror as he moved his hands to your ass, grasping each cheek and squeezing.

“We have to go,” you said smiling up at Ahk as he watched his hands moving in the mirror before he returned his beautiful eyes to yours.

“I am a king. I do not have to do anything.”

“Were a king. Now you’re a student at university, building a brand new life for yourself. With me,” you said as you rose up to plant a sweet kiss on his full lips.

“Are you sure you still love me, even though I am now like so many others?”

“Ahkmenrah. Just because you aren’t a king anymore doesn’t mean you aren’t special. You possess a thousand splendid qualities that have nothing to do with your pedigree.”

Ahk took a deep breath and gathered himself up to his full height, peering at his image again.

“Let’s go, my love,” you said, reaching up to kiss his chin.

Your best friend since 9th grade was celebrating her engagement, and all of your friends, her family, and her fiancé’s family had gathered at a restaurant in Midtown. The party was an elegant affair with many people you hadn’t seen in some time. It was fun to catch up now that everyone was a little older and a little more settled.

However, there was one exception—apparently, one of your old friends was currently dating your jerk of an ex-boyfriend. You found it comical because she knew how he had treated you like a possession, like a prize he had won and had every right to decide how and when it was shown off. Needless to say, you ended the relationship, wiping your memory clean of the few months you had spent together as a couple.

You weren’t sure what hurt worse—how he treated you or that you were so disappointed in yourself for allowing him to treat you that way. You always prided yourself on being smart, resourceful, and the fact that you let someone like that into your life, even for a short time, weighed heavily on you now that you saw him again.

And it was clear that your ex was keen on speaking to you as he kept glancing at you as you milled amongst the other guests, drinking and eating hors d'oeuvres. You noticed he took an especially long look at Ahk, which did not go unnoticed.

“Why does that man keep looking at you?” Ahkmenrah asked as the two of you stood at the bar, waiting on your drinks.

“I know him … knew him.”

Ahk raised his eyebrows as he read the tone of your voice.

“Oh?”

“We dated for a few months. He’s a jerk.”

You didn’t miss the way Ahkmenrah’s face darkened, and how he glanced around the room, settling his eyes on your ex’s face.

“I wish I still had the power to banish people to the desert.”

You tossed your head back and laughed, drawing out a chuckle from Ahkmenrah, too.

“So do I,” you said as you clinked your glasses together and Ahkmenrah wrapped his arm around protectively around your waist.

You spent the majority of the evening comfortably socializing, loving how Ahkmenrah was able to talk to just about anyone, his inquisitive nature making him an excellent listener and drawing people to him.

And just as you were about ready to leave, your friend whisked you away from Ahk to talk to her sister who had been dying to see you all night. On your way, your friend ended up pulled away by her fiancé to meet another relative and you found yourself face to face with your ex-boyfriend.

Lemony Snicket had nothing on this series of unfortunate events, you jokingly thought.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes travelling boldly over your body.

“Hello,” you said, stepping to the side in the hopes of continuing your trajectory, but your ex had other plans. He stepped in your path and asked if he could talk to you for a minute.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I know—I’d just like a moment to apologize.”

You looked at him, and maybe you were just stupid or maybe you were just too kind, but you took pity on him and nodded your head.

You followed your ex into a smaller room with a smaller bar mostly occupied by patrons of the restaurant and not members of the engagement party.

“I treated you badly,” he began without even pausing. “And I’m sorry.”

“You’ve changed your ways? Seen the light? Need to have some resolution?” you said in a clipped tone.

“I have. But—but seeing you tonight. I feel like I made an even bigger mistake than I thought.”

“Oh?”

“You look—”

“Why does it matter how I look?”

“You look happy, I was going to say. I wish I could’ve been the one to make you smile like that.”

“Well, you weren’t.”

“Is everything okay, Y/N?” came Ahk’s very steady voice, which belied the anger you could see in his eyes.

“Now that you’re here,” you said smiling and holding out your hand.

“Right,” your ex said, awkwardly shifting his weight. “It was good seeing you, Y/N.”

You nodded and Ahkmenrah narrowed his eyes at your ex as he walked away.

“Come with me,” he said, his grip on your waist firm.

As soon as you were alone, tucked into a quiet corner of the restaurant, Ahkmenrah kissed you, hard and deep.

“Ahk,” you gasped pulling away. “We’re in public.”

“I do not care.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I never want to see that look on your face again. He hurt you.”

You smiled sadly.

“Only because of my own stupidity.”

“No one will ever hurt you again,” Ahk growled, his hands cupping your face.

“I’m counting on that, my love,” you returned, smiling before kissing Ahkmenrah until he forgot about your past and thought only of your future … together.

#Ahk #Ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah imagine #ahkmenrah x reader #female reader #rami malek #rami malek character

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moonbeambucky · 5 years ago

Text

Baby

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 5860 Warnings: fluff, angst

Summary: A bad date turns around when you find love in the last place you expected.

A/N: This is my submission for @interestedbystanderwrites 2k MCUxDirty Dancing Follower Milestone Challenge My prompt was “Go back to your playpen… baby.” Thank you as always to Sam @buckyofthemyscira for beta reading 💕 gif not mine

Terrible weather began a terrible day but it all turned around when he walked in…

Winter’s icy grip still held on firmly despite it technically being Spring. The temperature was barely climbing higher each day as thick grey clouds settled themselves in the sky making you wonder if you’ll ever feel the sun’s warmth again. It was cold and being near the banks of the Erie made it colder.

Rain beat against the window of your office from steady flows to heavy downpours that rattled you in your chair. You gave a quick glance at your umbrella at the foot of your desk, thankful for its companionship on a day like this when the clouds can’t make up their minds about whether or not today would be when they decide to unleash an apocalyptic flood upon the world.

The end of the work day was nearing and you were looking forward to going home so you could get ready for the first date you’ve been on in a while. After your previous relationship ended it took you a while to get back on your feet and put yourself out there.

It had been about a month since you matched with Danny. He was a junior partner at a law firm not far from your own office making you wonder if you’ve ever unknowingly crossed paths before. After all the talking and texting you decided to go on a date. You were down for a more casual meeting at a coffee shop but he insisted on a traditional first date dinner.

That wouldn’t have been so bad except his choice of restaurant, the most upscale and expensive place in the heart of Cleveland, made you extremely nervous. You weren’t going to disagree with his suggestion, even though you’d be a lot more relaxed getting to know him over tapas and drinks. Danny seemed really excited to go there making you think maybe he was trying to impress you.

A chill had set in the air causing you to shiver and regret not wearing pants. Your navy dress was form fitting and a modest length, and any remaining skin was covered by dark tights and tall boots. Tiny pebbles of gravel crunched underneath your footsteps along the soaked brick of the paved road. Large puddles reflected the lights of the bars and restaurants flanking both sides of the street covered in a sea of pedestrians enjoying their weekend despite the day’s weather.

You spotted Danny under the sign outside the restaurant, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone. As you approached him you called out his name and were greeted with a bright smile as he looked up to see you. His arms wrapped around you for a welcoming hug bringing you in close.

“I’m so glad you look like your picture,” he said, pulling back to look you over again. “It’s such a turn off to meet someone that looks nothing like their picture.”

Your head quirked to the side thinking that was a very awkward statement to make especially to someone you’re first meeting. Still, you brushed it off thinking maybe he’s had a few experiences where people tried to present a version of themselves they no longer are.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “I’m a little nervous and you’re… so beautiful,” he continued, a wide smile plastered on his face.

Danny held the door open for you and when you were led to your table he helped you out of your coat and pulled out your chair.

He peered over his menu to smile your way and when you caught his gaze you smiled back.

“That’s a beautiful dress.”

“Oh thank you I– ”

“I’m so happy you dress classy. Men don’t actually want their girls to show off a lot of skin in public, some things are meant for their eyes only.”

What… the fuck. Your classy dress was hiding the steam that was rising from the blood boiling beneath your skin.

“Well it’s not up to men or anyone to tell someone how to dress,” you sneered.

Danny’s smile turned sour on his face. “Comments like that are probably the reason you’ve been single for so long. Now that I’m here I can teach you how to act like a lady.”

“What you need to do is learn manners and respect,” you said, placing the menu on the table.

Pushing out your chair you grabbed your things and headed for the door. There was a bit of commotion behind you with Danny calling you a bitch but you held your head high, with pride strengthening your stride as you walked out of the restaurant without turning back.

Deliberate heavy footsteps carried you down the block and away from your disaster date. So much for putting yourself out there again. If Danny was able to fool you so easily by hiding his true nature it didn’t give you a lot of hope for the future. You were tired of being alone and were really hoping that Danny could have been the connection you were looking for.

Playful laughter of a couple walking hand in hand passed you only twisted the knife in your broken heart. You felt like shit and truthfully didn’t want to feel anything at all for the rest of the night. There were plenty of bars along the street you could have chosen to drown your woes in but they were filled with too many happy people that you could not be around for fear of bursting into tears. You wanted– no, needed to go somewhere quiet; a place where you could disappear.

Thunder loomed in the distance making you walk faster, hugging your coat closer to yourself with your hands shrugged together in the pockets, distancing yourself from the lively streets, walking quickly so you could get to the outskirts of the trendy neighborhood.

The journey to your unknown destination ended when you stumbled upon a bar that called you like a moth to the flame. Dingy, black exterior with peeling paint and no discernible name. The weather had fogged up the bottom half of the windows with mostly-working neon signs advertising name brand beers, blocking the rest of your view into the place.

Flashes of red peered through the soot black door, also peeling, covering up the former bright entryway for one shrouded in mystery. It seemed like a place you expected would offer moonshine from a questionable barrel and considering your current state of emotions you wouldn’t be surprised if you took up the offer.

Silver numbers of the address were drilled into the heavy door you pushed open revealing everything you expected. Rock music from decades past drowning out the groans of people that want to escape the world outside. It was loud but not blaring, just enough to fill the void of empty space in the room.

The long bar glows like whiskey in the sun. An older woman with dark hair shows off defined arms in a black muscle tank top, popping the cap off a beer she slides to a man at the end. There are only a few patrons sitting far enough apart from each other so they don’t have to make conversation. This place doesn’t look like it gets much traffic but what it does have seems to be familiar faces; a home for those who don’t fit in anywhere else, and right now that included you.

Boisterous laughter roared over the guitar riffs and you look to see a group of denim clad men crowding around the only pool table in the back. Dry, dusty hands chalk the pool stick as dry, dusty men make the best of their evening, just as you planned on doing.

Cracked peanut shells that litter the floor crack even more as you walk towards the bar. The old stool squeaks as you settle on it, slipping your arms out of your coat you hang over the back. Twisting forward again you see the bartender walking towards you. A friendly smile wrinkled the corners of her thin lips set against leathery skin as her smoke graveled voice asked what you’ll be drinking, because she knows you’re not there for the nuts.

“Jack and Coke,” you replied, not bothering to force a smile back.

It’s understood in the downward slope of your eyebrows and the corners of your lips that feel too heavy to ever lift again. A worn coaster is set in front of you with the mixed drink followed quickly behind it and soon you find one corner of your mouth twitching with gratitude for her haste.

“Name’s Sally. Let me know if you need anything else,” she offered before settling back towards the middle of the bar to get another round for those playing pool.

The glass is cold, the drink is strong and instantly you feel relief along with the urge to hiccup and burp at the same time. Your hand covers your mouth as you try to do both silently as your other hand digs out your phone so you could delete your dating app.

For now this is what you needed, to delete the memory of Danny whose name burned your mouth worse than the strongest liquor. You didn’t want to deal with any other potential matches either, not tonight, not for a while. With another gulp of your drink you confirmed your decision, to delete men (temporarily) from your life, and that’s when you saw him.

Tall, tan, toned… he was… making your brain stutter or maybe that was the alcohol? Possibly both considering he was the most good looking man you had ever seen. He was photoshopped perfection in real life, an actual god. But what the hell was he doing in this place?

Sex on legs strutted out from the back, looking unfairly handsome in black jeans, a simple white t-shirt and a blue track jacket. He reclaimed his spot at the bar, the corner seat at the end leaving only a chair between you.

The glow of the bar bathes him in honey and his voice was just as sweet as you overheard him order a drink, flashing Sally a megawatt smile, the slightest crinkles surrounding his smoldering blue eyes. That’s when you recognized him. He was certainly a god made flesh, the god of gymnastics Lance Tucker. A gold and silver medalist that somehow ended up in some shit hole bar in Cleveland.

Blue eyes shifted your way making your face burn under the realization he caught you staring. Your lips pulled to a half smile before taking another gulp of your drink and grab your phone, highlighting with a notification. It was an automated text reminding you of your hair appointment tomorrow but it served as the perfect distraction to keep your nose down at your phone and not at the face of the man whose eyes you felt were burning through you.

A smooth voice pulled your attention away from your fake distraction. “What brings you here?”

Looking up you see Lance, elbow propped up on the counter and leaning his dimpled chin into his hand while the other was loosely splayed out beside his drink.

“You don’t look like someone that comes here a lot,” he continued, since you were in a slight state of shock by the fact that he was speaking to you in the first place.

You swallowed a smile, noting the way his body angled towards you now, awaiting your answer. There was no sign of impatience anywhere, but a genuinely curious smile slowly stretching across his face.

“I could ask you the same,” you said, lifting your drink to your lips to mask the surprise you felt by replying in such a bold manner.

“So ask me.”

The bubbly drink lifted up a burst of laughter with equal parts shock. You were surprised enough by your own response to him, never expecting him to reply this way. With no expectations from him you decided to roll with this conversation, knowing it would serve as a better distraction than dwelling on your bad date.

“Okay,” you began, shifting in your seat to face him. Shifting your eyes towards his hand you watched as he played with the condensation on his glass, dragging the wetness in slow circles as he anticipated what you might say next. “What brings Lance Tucker to a no-name bar in Cleveland?”

His face scrunched together as he held in a mixture of pride and embarrassment, licking his lips before swallowing back the rest of his drink. “So you know who I am,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

You nodded and broke the slightest bit of tension that hung in the air, remarking how you didn’t think anyone else had recognized him. He seemed to relax under that notion, hoping it was true. Lance has had a good portion of his life publicized but now things were different.

“Well that’s not fair, I don’t know your name,” he smirked.

After telling Lance your name you watched his lips whisper it back slowly, as if it was a secret he wanted to keep all for himself.

He leaned in closer and you felt compelled to do the same, bringing you inches away from his enticing features. “So, you want to know why I’m here?” he said, dragging the suspense out of every syllable.

“Yes!” you shouted.

Lance smiled and chewed on his bottom lip as he watched you laugh as a result of enthusiastically shouting. Your laughter washed over him in calming waves that lifted his heart. A year ago he would have rattled off some line that would guarantee him getting laid but a lot has happened in that time and he was a new man, trying to make the best of his new life in a new city.

“I’m here because of my daughter,” he said low and soft, with happiness lighting up his face like a sunrise over the horizon.

You couldn’t help the smile that formed, regardless of knowing the details he was about to explain, it was sweet to see the love he had for his child. Lance continued filling in parts of his story you had heard bits and pieces about. To be honest before meeting Lance you didn’t care about celebrity gossip, learning most news involuntarily through social media posts or the occasional office buzz.

Lance’s story in his own words was more fleshed out from what you knew and strikingly honest. He began coaching Maggie Townsend after her win in Toronto, he slept with her because she was “young and hot” and for nine months they tried to be in a relationship for the baby but that ultimately failed due to countless fights with Maggie screaming at him for ruining her career.

“To be fair, I kinda did,” he admitted.

Lance left Los Angeles for Ohio to be near his daughter Olivia who was now nine months old. He had an apartment in the city because “Cleveland is better than that shit town Amherst” and also because he needed space from Maggie. He hates it here but it’s a sacrifice he’s making to be there for his kid.

“Your turn,” Lance said, nudging a glass your way from the next round Sally poured.

Whether it was Lance’s candor or the Jack Daniels you felt comfortable in opening up to Lance as well, telling him how excited you were to go on this date, the first one since your breakup with your ex.

“It felt like I had been talking to one person this whole time and then he sent his evil twin to go on the date.”

“What an asshole,” Lance said, swallowing back his drink. He was thankful you walked on out that idiot because it lead you here with him.

Lance was easy to get along with as you slowly empted your glasses discussing this new city he moved to, finding out as many tips as he could about the best places to go while you listened to all of his complaints.

“It’s not that bad,” you joked. “Wait until winter though. That’s the worst.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely not looking forward to that. Maybe I could take Livi to LA for a few months…” he wondered out loud, knowing he was lucky enough to have her for a few days a week. “You ever been?”

“Once when I was a kid. My family went to California and did all the touristy stuff, Hollywood Boulevard, Disneyland.”

“Well LA’s a lot better as an adult,” Lance playfully chuckled. “Plus it’s got everything, except winter.”

Lance winked and you burst out laughing, watching as his own eyes crinkled with delight as he joined you.

“Another round?” Sally asked, clinking the empty glasses together as she grabbed them.

Mischief simmered in Lance’s eyes as he asked you, “Want to have some fun?” Your brows knitted with confusion until you heard him ask Sally for two shots of tequila. Ahhh, fun.

She came back with three glasses, one filled with lime wedges and two empties, setting a salt shaker down beside them. You thanked her as she filled the shot glasses as Lance picked up the salt.

Your cheeks were already burning from the drinks you had but now it felt like every part of your skin was scorching under Lance’s gaze as he watched your tongue dart out to lick the back of your hand. With a smirk plastered on his face he poured out the salt to cover the wetness on your skin. It was difficult to not look at him do the same, watching his bright pink tongue expertly swipe at his hand sent an ache straight to your core.

He lifted the shot glass waiting for you to do the same, and with a nod to show you were ready you both licked the salt from your hands, swallowed the burning liquid in one gulp and sought out the lime for relief.

The glasses slammed on the table with vigor, a bit sloppily in your case as you realize a shot after two drinks and no dinner might not have been the best idea. The music has faded to a loud hum as you sit as still as possible, trying to reign in your head that felt like it was floating like a balloon through a storm.

Lance’s tongue darted out once more to swipe over his lips. That shot hit the spot in helping to erase the memory of an earlier fight with Maggie that had him seeking out a bar to begin with. Meeting you certainly kept his mind off things. You were easy to talk to, funny, beautiful and as he looked over towards you now, spacing out hard.

“You okay?” he leaned in to ask, as you felt his hot breath against your ear.

Your head felt miles away while your eyes, glossed over with a haze, were focused on seemingly nothing straight ahead of you. “Yes,” you lied at first, “No. Can we maybe get something to eat?”

You didn’t hear Lance’s answer but saw him leave money on the counter to cover the tab for both of you. You stumbled a bit to get off the stool but he was there to hold you steady. With your coat slung over his arm, Lance helped guide you to the door.

The rain had stopped, leaving the air cool enough to feel amazing against your heated skin and instantly you felt a little bit better. With Lance’s arm around you tightly you walked a few short blocks to small plaza with a lineup of food trucks. There was a variety to choose from, some with just desserts that looked so good but you knew you needed something a bit more substantial.

“Burgers?” you suggested, looking at Lance for any objection, not that he would; you were his top priority now and he made sure you got whatever you needed to feel better.

The line for the truck was long but it seemed to go by quickly and once you had the food in your hands you could not wait to dig in. Your mouth opened wide to take a large bite of the burger, loving the way the juicy meat mixed with the melted cheese and buttery bun.

“This is so good,” you attempted to say with a mouth full of food, chewing as much as you could while trying not to spit anything out.

Lance smiled at the way your face glowed under the fairy lights strung throughout the tree branches above you. He was happy to see you smiling, knowing he had a small hand in turning your night around.

“Feelin better?” Lance asked as you both threw away your trash and began to lazily stroll down the sidewalk.

“Much, thank you. And thank you for paying back there.” Your steps were small and deliberate, unsure of where you were walking with him but it felt like the end of the night and truthfully you didn’t want to say goodbye.

“It’s nothing,” Lance said, smiling as his fingers accidentally brushed against yours. He wanted to take your hand, lace your fingers with his and see where the night would take you.

Reaching the corner of the sidewalk you waited to cross as cars zoomed by, not paying attention to the car that drove through the giant puddle of water by the overflowing sewer. Dirty water splashed and rained down on you and Lance as you shrieked out of surprise by the freezing cold wetness.

“Oh my god!” you shouted, wiping water from your eyes.

Lance stood there in shock, his white t-shirt now see through and clinging to the sculptured muscles of his stomach. You couldn’t help but laugh some more at his face, his wide gasp turning into a wider smile as he saw your drenched hair and clothes. He remembered a time with Maggie before they had gotten together, screaming at the top of her lungs when a teammate threw a water balloon at her. But here, drenched in disgusting water that’s been pooling on the dirty street you were laughing your ass off.

Lance cupped your face and crashed his lips to yours, abruptly stopping your laughter that quickly turned into moans he was desperate to swallow. His lips were soft against yours though his tongue was rough, on a mission to taste every part of your mouth. Your hands ran through his damp locks in an effort to grab hold of anything that could confirm this was real.

Reluctantly you broke away for air but kept your forehead pressed against his as you panted heavily, desperate to feel his lips against yours again. The blue of Lance’s eyes retreated fully, revealing a deep lustful gaze that spoke volumes for how you both felt. Your tongue glided over your lips as before you closed this distance this time, kissing him with no intention of stopping.

Lance’s apartment wasn’t far and you found yourselves there, removing sodden clothes from your bodies in a frantic haze. His body was burning hot with desire and your lips traveled all over his chiseled form. Skin to skin, slapping against each other in the throes of passion. Sweaty, hungry, eager kisses chasing after your swollen lips.

“Baby,” he grunts, gruff and needy with every thrust inside you. “Baby,” he whispers, soft and sweet like a prayer as you soar to the heavens together.

Every inch of the room is coated in a primal musk as two sweaty, sticky bodies rested together under the cool thin sheet, with sleep overtaking you both.

Warm light filtered in through windows gently stirring you awake, making you wish you remembered to shut the blinds like you normally would. Your fingers dug at crust from your eyes as your head pounded against the pillow that felt too soft. Looking over to the nightstand you searched for your alarm clock, instead finding an unfamiliar lamp. This morning seemed… off.

The bright light was too painful so you turned your back to it, coming face to face with the reason why everything felt different.

Lance Tucker was fast asleep, his face smushed into the pillows; his pillows in his apartment where, judging by the clothes strewn across the floor and delicious ache between your legs, you had sex.

Your hand rubbed behind your neck, feeling a sore trail of love bites left from the night’s activities. Now you remember, and quite frankly you don’t know how you could have ever forgotten your mind blowing time.

If the Sex Olympics were a thing Lance should win the gold in every category. He was a generous and skilled lover, who brought you tumbling over the edge several times. But now with the sheet wrapped closer to your chest and your head feeling like it’s in the middle of a construction zone, you worried about what he might say with a more clear headed mind.

Would he regret taking you home? Should you slip out while he’s sleeping and forget this ever happened?

It was too late to make any decision, Lance groaned sleepily, opening his eyes to find you beside him.

“Mornin’ baby,” his parched mouth groaned out, his lips pulling slightly into a smile.

Baby. The pet name you apparently earned last night, falling sweetly off his lips. Lance pulled you close to him so your head could rest on his shoulder. You were both exhausted and hungover, but spending a lazy morning tangled in each other’s arms didn’t seem so bad.

A few hours later you woke up for real, with a splitting headache you wish wasn’t real. Lance made coffee that helped a little bit, though when he pressed his lips against your temple for a soft kiss you definitely felt something. Not cured of your hangover but the stirring of butterflies in your stomach. You left shortly after with his number in your phone, a wrinkled dress and sex hair that was worth missing your salon appointment over.

You hadn’t expected to hear from Lance, in fact you convinced yourself he wasn’t going to text, making each day you hadn’t heard from him a lot easier to deal with but as your phone buzzed with an alert a big smile overtook your face and instantly you felt relief.

Lance had apologized for not being in contact, he had Olivia for the past few days and he was focused on her. Of course he had nothing to apologize for, you really enjoyed hearing about the mess she made while eating or how he played with her.

“If you’re free tonight I’d like to see you again.” He held his breath hopefully letting out a sigh as he beamed widely at your answer.

Seeing Lance became a regular thing except on the days he had Olivia. You respected the time he spent with his daughter and didn’t dare intrude. Other times you were together, back at the food trucks trying a bit of everything, exploring the city hand in hand with Lance slowly coming around to other positives about living there aside from you.

Most nights were spent at his place, cuddled up together on the couch binge watching the latest series or in bed where your body trembled with aftershocks of the Earth shaking, hot white pleasure you had experienced. Above all, Lance had found a way into your heart as if he was always meant to be there.

Lance’s handsome face appeared on your phone and you quickly swiped to answer the call.

“Hey baby,” Lance greeted through a yawn. “Livi had me up all night, I’m exhausted,” he continued, trying to talk above the noise of traffic around him but not too loud to wake up Olivia in the car seat.

“I’m sorry about that babe. I could have driven if you wanted,” you offered.

“I’ll be alright, plus…” he sighed, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to bring someone new around Maggie. I don’t need the headache, I’m sorry baby, but I appreciate it.”

After driving back and forth Lance came over for dinner since he was too tired to make something himself. Above the sizzle of the frying pan you heard his groans, looking up to find his shoulders slouched, head in his hands on the table.

Adjusting the knobs on the stove you stepped away briefly and walked towards Lance. Your hands skimmed across the hard planes of his back up to his shoulders, kneading the tight muscles as he groaned appreciatively under your touch.

Maggie had fought with him again, this time about Olivia’s first birthday. She wanted to plan an extravagant party and got angry that the children’s party venue, that she had months to book in advance, would not squeeze her in.

“She’s so frustrating. She got it in her head that LA was bad and things would be better back here but clearly she forgot that Amherst hates her.”

“Why?” you asked, applying more pressure as he you felt his muscles tense up the more he spoke about her.

Lance reached his hand back to cover yours. “It’s my fault. It always is,” he sighed.

The sizzling grew louder so you placed a kiss to his cheek before going back to tend to the cooking. “Don’t say that Lance.”

“It’s partially true. She abandoned this town for me, to train, and then…” he gestured with his hands. “She hates me because of everything that happened.”

The opportunity to talk about Maggie seldom appeared. You had a lot of opinions about her that you kept to yourself. It wasn’t your business and you didn’t need to add fuel to the fire they were trying to curb for Olivia’s sake but something inside was itching for you to find out.

You and Lance had been seeing each other for a few months and you loved him though you hadn’t said it out loud yet. You hoped he knew it in your actions, just like you felt it from him in the gentle ways he held you at night, the longing looks, the bright smiles. You wouldn’t push him to say the words to you but part of you needed to know how he felt about her.

“Do you hate her?”

Lance straightened up in the chair, staring contemplatively before answering. “No. She’s the mother of my child, I don’t hate her.” But do you love her?

Lance’s warm scent invaded your senses as your lips were pressed together. He would be leaving for Olivia’s birthday party, with your colorfully wrapped gift in hand. You wished you could go with him, hoping that one day everyone would be able to get along.

That night Lance was supposed to call but you didn’t hear from him. Before bed you said goodnight via text, figuring he was tired after such a long day. He didn’t return your text until the following day, apologizing for the delay. He had caught a stomach bug and didn’t want to trouble you with anything.

Two days later you finally heard his voice. “I’m sorry baby,” he weakly groaned. He was cancelling your weekend plans again, needing more time to recuperate.

Lance didn’t sound like himself, but you attributed that to all the vomiting. He was a nightmare when he caught a cold last month so you can’t imagine how he’s been handling everything a stomach bug entails.

A week had passed and each day without him felt like an eternity. Lance was surely better now so you decided to surprise him, hoping he regained enough of his strength to go for a stroll with you on this beautiful day.

As soon as the elevator doors opened to his floor you wished they hadn’t. At the end of the hallway was Lance, his hand cupped around Maggie’s cheek, his tongue going further and further down her throat.

The ding of the elevator alerted them to your shocked presence. You wanted to run, to go back home, to somehow wake yourself up from this nightmare because that’s what this had to be. Instead, your shaky legs carried you towards them against your will in search of answers.

“Lance, I…I don’t understand…” you began.

A sharp laugh pierced your heart like a million arrows, each one tipped with poison in the form of lies and betrayal.

“Is this who you’ve been wasting your time with Lance?” Maggie asked incredulously, still laughing as she looked you up and down.

The ability to speak had left, your voice abandoning you when you needed it most. Your mouth hung open, trembling as you looked at Lance wondering why.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said softly with regret. “Maggie and I are… we’ve been…”

“We’re together,” she smirked, lacing her arm through his as if she was claiming her prize. Maggie won the gold, again, this time in the form of Lance.

Lance couldn’t meet your gaze. He stared at the floor, lifting his eyes to your trembling hands. He felt terrible lying to you and even worse now with you standing in front of him, deserving of a better explanation than what he could give.

“We thought it would be best to try… for Olivia. After her birthday we…”

It made sense now why he hadn’t called when he came home that night, he hadn’t; and he had been lying ever since. You broke at the realization.

“How could you do this to me?” your voice cracked as tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“Baby, I’m sorry.”

“I thought we had something… I lo…” The word died on your tongue, you couldn’t say it. It wouldn’t change what happened and you couldn’t forgive him.

Maggie rolled her eyes hard, “Pfft, this girl whines worse than Olivia. Go back to your playpen… baby.”

Baby. The nickname that rose from the flames of lust now turned to ash.

Muffled cries from inside the apartment draw everyone’s attention towards the door.

“Great, now you woke up our daughter,” Maggie huffed, stomping off into Lance’s place.

Silence drowned the hallway as you stared at each other. With every tear that fell Lance felt worse He fucked up, big time, and there was nothing he could do to fix this.

“Y/N.”

He whispered your name like the first time he said it, the night you found each other in the last place anyone would think they could find happiness. Lance took your hand and you wanted to pull it away but you couldn’t. You were pathetic, still desperate for his touch, one last time.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffed back a tear before it could drop, letting go of your hand and going back inside his apartment.

You were paralyzed, crying like the baby you truly were, moving only when you heard their voices through the wall. Slowly you turned back to the elevator, descending to the lobby and back out onto the street with nowhere to go.

Beautiful weather began a beautiful day but it all turned around when he walked out…

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated :)

Perm. Tags (open): @all1e23 / @asphalt-cocktail / @badassbaker / @bibibucky / @breezy1415 / @bucky-smiles / @buckybabybaby / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @buckyofthemyscira / @california-grown / @chameerah / @chrevastan / @crazyfreaker / @crazyinspiration / @driftingtonystark / @fandom-addict-aesthetics / @hana1379 / @his-paradox / @holland-stan-posts / @jaamesbbarnes / @jamesbvck / @jbuckbrnes / @kentuckybarnes / @kenzieam / @mcu-avengers / @mizzzpink / @notimetoblog / @palaiasaurus64 / @prettyyoungtragedy / @royallylazy / @sgtjbuccky / @stanclub / @stevehesaidabadlanguageword / @supernaturaldean67 / @survivalistflowers / @suz-123 / @teamcap4bucky / @theassetseyeliner / @toongtii / @tropicalcap / @undyingart / @valhalla-ally / @wintersxsoul / @wonderlandmind4 / @wonderless-screwup / @yourpal-yourbuddy-yourbuckyy

#interestedbystander2kmilestone #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x you #lance tucker imagine

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youeggbastard · 4 years ago

Text

Oc Questionnaire (Again)

Now it’s Jens turn.

Once Again thank you so much @jessaryss for this awesome template you’re the bees knees! ❤❤❤

Iphigenia

BASICS

Name: Iphigenia ( Iph·i·ge·nia )but better known as just Jen very few people are allowed to know her full name

Race: Imperial

Age: 25

Pronouns: She/Her

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Black

Skin: Pale... she needs to tan more

Height: 5′6

Weight: 143

General Physique: A little more on the curvy side

Tattoos, WarPaints & Scars? None yet but I’m still working on character design

ABOUT

Dragonborn: YES / NO

Werewolf/Bear or Vampire? None

Occupation: Best described as a spell sword for hire, but really she’s just a wandering necromancer for hire.

Guild Association(s): Used to be a Vigilant of Stendarr, it didn’t end well though.

Favoured Weapon Class / Type: Duel Wielding One handed, primarily only bound swords.

Favoured School of Magic / Type: It’s a tie between Destruction and Conjuration.

Heavy Armor? Light Armor? Robes? Robes

Place of Birth: Cyrodiil

Place Where They Were Raised: Same place up until she was 12 years old, then she came to Skyrim.

Current Location: Skyrim

Education / Place of Study: No formal education really, her father and his “friends” cult taught her conjuration, or more specifically necromancy, and then when she joined the Vigilants she learned a great deal of restoration magic as well as some destruction. The rest she’s taught herself, so no doubt her magic style would make classically trained mages cringe.

Any Teachers / Inspirations? Pretty much all her teachers and inspirations have let her down in one way or another.

PERSONAL

Patron Deity (if any): Used to be Stendarr until he abandoned her, now she doesn’t associate herself with gods.

Political Alliance (if any): Despite being Imperial Jen doesn’t have any loyalty to the Empire and she does sympathize with the Stormcloaks cause, but it’s kind of hard to fully sympathize with them when they hate her. So, her political alliance is closer to the common people, the ones who are actually suffering from the war.

Strongest Skills: She’s deadly with destruction magic, mainly lighting and she has always had a knack for Necromancy though that’s more of a curse than a blessing.

Strengths: Clever, strategist, She can be downright ruthless in battle, fearless, stubborn, will continue fighting until the end.

Weaknesses: Her fearlessness often leads to recklessness, doesn’t really have survival skills, more often than not her emotions control her rather than vice versa.

Spouses? Flings? Lovers? Jen is pretty sex positive, she’s had a couple of flings here and there but only with people she actually trusts, so friends with benefit situations mostly, she’s not one to have a one night stand or hatefuck, but she’s always kept them at arms lengths and the minute feelings start she scatters. In her entire life she’s only be in love twice, once with her partner in the Vigilants who ended up betraying her and she ended up killing him, and then with Kaidan who she eventually marries.

Thaneship (and of where?) Whiterun, Riften, and somehow Morthal though she’s not entirely sure how she became Thane of any of those holds.

Most Difficult Quest They’ve Been On? Pretty much any of the quests from the Vigilant Mod, the one where she had to fight Lamae fucked her up emotionally.

Jail Time? No she’s too streetwise.

Largest Bounty Held? The vigilants have a pretty large bounty on her head, but I don’t think that counts.

How Much Gold Are They Typically Carrying? Anywhere from 2 to 20000 Septims

How Do They Get Gold? Primarily through necromancy jobs, a lot of people will hire her for help getting rids of spirits, ghosts, etc... But Jen isn’t good at charging or saying no to people in need, so most of her income comes from overcharging rich people and jarls.

Are Werebeings and Vampires Vile Creatures or Simply Misunderstood? If you asked her this a couple of years ago she would have said, yes they are vile and need to be eradicated. Now that she’s no longer a vigilant and not under the influence of them she has a different opinion. Now she realizes the line between man and monster is a lot more blurred, now she sees herself more as the monster after all she’s done in the name of Justice.

Do They Actively Hunt Dragons? Not really, they hunt her more often than not.

Goals In Life? Help as many people as she can and hopefully do some good for once.

Deepest Regret? Killing innocent people under the guise of Stendarr’s mercy, and not being able to save Altano before it was too late.

Greatest Hope? She would never say this but she desperately wants a family. She craves the unconditional love that she has searched for all her life and was instead betrayed and her love used against her.

Most Embarrassing Moment: She has screamed more than once encountering spiders.

Flaws: Stubborn, hot headed, unforgiving, judgmental, isn’t very good at controlling her emotions which isn’t exactly good thing for a mage or a dragonborn, proud.

Fears: Spiders and all other kinds of creepy crawlers especially things with more than two legs, betrayal, the dead (especially the ones that haunt her nightmares).

What Makes Them Happy? Flowers, the stars, the quiet nights, helping others, her friends, baths.

Hobbies: She’s actually an avid horseback rider, if her life had been normal she probably would have owned a stables, collecting flowers and creating new spells as well.

Favorite Locations: She loves Riverwood and the area surrounding it, it helps that the people of Riverwood actually like her.

Favorite Holds: Falkreath

Eating Habits? She’s not very picky.

Can They Cook? She can, though she doesn’t have much time to make gourmet meals, so she really just cooks enough to get by.

Favorite Food: She loves tomato soup, it reminds her of her childhood, before her parents went crazy.

Favorite Drink: Wine

First Thing They Do At A Tavern? Take a bath

Sleeping Habits? Very sporadic, sometimes she won’t get sleep for days, other times she will sleep 12 hours at a time. God help anyone that tries to wake her up, she’s a graceful riser.

Cities or the wilds? Both, she likes people watching and being near civilization, but she also loves the outdoors, being under the night sky, fields of flowers etc.

Pet Peeves? Being talked over, being bossed around (specifically by men)rich people just fucking existing.

Describe Their Bedroom or Home There would also be fresh flowers in a vase, as well as lavender hanging from the roof. It would be very clean, unless she’s working of magic study of a new spell than it’s a complete mess.

How Would A Stranger Describe This Person? She’s got a bad case of Resting Bitch face, comes across as very cold and distant, just an unfeeling bitch.

Someone Close To Them? The opposite of that. She cares so much for her friends and will go to the ends of the Earth for them, it’s that quality that has gotten her in a lot of trouble. She helps whoever she can and has the worst case of bleeding heart syndrome. .

How Do They Deal With Anger? Jen is a hot head, and when she does get angry she can be cruel and unrelenting. But luckily her anger fizzles out pretty quickly especially if she knows she wrong, so she will apologize and make things right if it’s someone she loves. But if you’re in the wrong, it’s gonna be hard to get her forgiveness back.

How Do They Deal With Failure? She can take it hard, she’ll probably get moody and lash out, but deep down knows she’s really just angry with herself, eventually she cols off and learns from her mistakes and swears to not make them again.

How Do They Deal With Loss of a friend or someone close? Jen’s friends are everything to her so losing them would wreck her, she wouldn’t be able to sleep or eat, or probably even let them go that easily, she would storm the gods if it meant saving someone she loved

Go Into The Bandit Filled Cave To Retrieve The Lost Amulet For Some Simpleton, or Tell Them Nah Bye? Depends is it someone desperate and downtrodden who couldn’t do it themselves? Yes. Someone entirely capable of doing it themselves? probably not then, but all you really need to do is make up a sob story to appeal to her bleeding heart.

Opinions on Daedra? She isn’t a vigilant anymore but she still knows Daedra are always a bad idea and would probably never side with them or trust them. Molag Bal though, she would storm Coldharbour just to kill him, she would find a way to kill daedra just to kill him.

Companions / Followers

First Follower: Gorr (3DNPC)

Have They Stuck Around? Not really, they had a bit of a fling and Jen scattered.

Something The Look For In A Follower (or do they hire anyone without question?) Someone who she trusts and won’t get annoyed by her gentle mothering as well as her need to save everyone and everything. But really trust is a huge thing, she would die for her friends so she needs someone who won’t betray that trust.

Followers Over The Years (or whatever amount of time): In This order

Gorr (3DNPC) (2 Months)

Mercutio (1 Month)

Mjoll the Lioness (5 Months)

Kaidan (Still Present)

Auri (Still Present)

Serana (Still Present)

Lucien (Still Present)

Funny enough the first three were people she’s had flings with who she ended up leaving once feelings got in the way. I mean Kai is also part of that group, but she actually stayed for him, obviously.

Fourth Wall

Any Must Have Mods To Play This Character? Vigilant, Apocalypse, and then all the followers mods mentioned above.

Random Screenshot / Drawing: See Way Above

Level? 34 as of right now

Serious RP or Thomas The Tank Engine Dragons, Fart Shouts, and Kawaii Cat Girl Mods? Serious so far, but I’ve only had one gameplay of her and I’m still working on it there might be some tank engine dragons in her future who knows.

#Idk if anyone would notice from the drawing but I've changed her appearance a bit #Just a bit nothing drastic #I thought about giving her tattoos but like then that means I have to draw them #and I'm lazy so....#egg tries to draw #my art #my oc #oc: iphigenia #skyrim oc

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heauxplesslydevoted · 5 years ago

Text

Healing Part 2

Previous part here. It’ll probably help to read that one first.

Tags: @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @choicesobsessedd @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @sparklinglilac @cream-ray @perriewinklenerdie @barricades-of-freedom @dr-brianna-casey-valentine @doroshi-desu @aworldoffandoms @dr-nancy-house @goldenbirdcrystalcage @referencees @mightyfangirlofthefandoms @cxld-play @thefangirl-2001 @akacalliope

“Tie or no tie?”

“What?”

“Tie or no tie?” Ethan repeats, a bit louder this time. He’s standing in front of the full length mirror in their bedroom, a tan tie dangling from his fingertips.

“No tie,” Naomi replies from the closet.

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t ask for my opinion if you’re just going to second guess it, Ramsey.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Ethan sighs and shakes his arms, hoping to somehow get rid of all of the anxious energy. He hasn’t felt this nervous since he asked Naomi out. “It’s just dinner with my parents, why am I overthinking this?”

“It’s perfectly fine to be nervous.” Naomi steps out of their closet and gives Ethan a once over. “Just so you know, you look handsome as always.” She spins around dramatically. “Now onto more important things: how do I look?”

Ethan’s eyes sweep over Naomi, taking in her outfit. She’s wearing one of his white button downs, the top two buttons undone, tucked into a tight black leather skirt. Her curls are pulled into a sleek bun, and Ethan has to resist the urge to undo it so he can tangle his fingers in them.

“I’m...perplexed,” Ethan admits.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Ethan walks over to Naomi. He runs his thumb across her cheek. “I don’t know how you do it, but you somehow get more and more beautiful.”

Naomi melts slightly at his words. “You’re so suave.” She kisses him, and Ethan quickly responds, his hand moving to the small of her back to hold her closer. Eventually, she breaks away, smiling and a bit breathless.

“Why don’t we just stay here and do more of that?” Ethan asks rhetorically. “And I can rip my shirt off of you.”

“Come on, you wanted to see your parents. I think we can spare an hour.”

“I know, I know.”

Naomi’s hands move to Ethan’s shirt, smoothing it out. “If you truly don’t want to do it–”

“I do,” Ethan insists. “I want to see them, I’m just...anxious. It’s been so long, and I’m sure it’ll be awkward.”

“Maybe it won’t be. Whatever the case, we won’t find out by just staying here.”

Ethan wishes he had her optimism. He kisses her one more time, for luck. “Let’s go find out.”

~V~

The restaurant is quiet when they get there, not too many patrons milling about. After saying he’s there for a reservation under “Ramsey” Ethan and Naomi are led to a private dining room in the back of the restaurant.

Ethan’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of his parents. His mother isn’t wearing the casual clothes she was sporting earlier, instead opting for a simple green dress. His father’s presence is still stifling and intimidating.

Margaret’s face lights up as she sees the younger couple enter the room. “Oh, you guys made it!”

“Hello, mom,” Ethan greets politely.

“Ethan. Naomi dear, you look gorgeous.”

“Thank you, Margaret.”

Ethan turns his attention to his father, who stood up to greet them. His usually larger than life father is hunched over, using a cane to support his weight. And he’s a lot skinnier than Ethan remembers.

“Ethan.”

“Hello, dad.”

“What, your old man doesn’t get a hug?”

Ethan stammers a bit, but he hugs his father nonetheless, careful to not put too much pressure on his back.

“Dad, this is my girlfriend, Dr. Naomi Valentine. Naomi, meet my father, William Ramsey.”

Naomi smiles. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, Naomi.”

Ethan pulls out Naomi’s chair for her and she sits down. “Thank you, baby.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ethan and Naomi settle into their seats across from his parents. After their server pours everyone a glass of wine, they all bury their heads in their menus, thankful that they have a reason to not speak. No one knows how to start a topic.

“So, Naomi where are you from?” William asks. “Based on your accent, I want to guess...Baltimore?”

“Close. DC girl, born and raised,” Naomi answers. “Baltimore for school though.”

Ethan slightly nudges her in a teasing manner, “I told you that you have an accent.”

Naomi rolls her eyes. “I don’t hear it.”

“Well it’s there.”

“So where’d you go to school?” William presses. He’s never met one of his son’s girlfriends before and he’s curious.

“Johns Hopkins for undergrad and med school.”

“Impressive. You must be smart as a whip.”

Naomi lowers her head to hide her blush. “I wouldn’t say–”

“She’s too modest,” Ethan says, cutting in. He can spend his entire life bragging about Naomi. “She’s one of the most brilliant people I know.”

“If you’re from DC, is your family big in the political scene?”

“There are no politicians in my family, no,” Naomi replies. “My dad is a lawyer, my mom runs a nonprofit for underprivileged youth in DC. They know politicians and have rubbed elbows with them, but no one in my family has a desire.”

“Interesting. How long have you been at the hospital?” William asks. “Hiddenbrook, is it?”

Naomi can feel Ethan tense up next to her. Yikes. His dad doesn’t know the name of the hospital he works at. “Edenbrook,” she corrects smoothly. “I’ve been here for three years now, fresh out of med school.”

“What about you and Ethan? How long have you two been together?”

“It’s been about a year and a half. He asked me out a few months after I joined the diagnostics team.”

Margaret smiles. “Oh how sweet. Ethan was always so...serious and fussy when he was young, I’m glad he found someone.”

Naomi smirks at Ethan. “He’s still serious and fussy. Probably even more so.”

Ethan feigns hurt. “I resent that, Rookie.”

“I only speak the truth.”

“So what is this diagnostics team?” Margaret asks. “Sounds interesting.”

“It’s just a group of doctors who specialize in really tough medical cases,” Ethan briefly explains.

“Now he’s the one being modest,” Naomi says proudly, rubbing her boyfriend’s arm. “It’s not just a group, it’s a team of highly skilled, highly intelligent internists and family medicine doctors solving some of the most challenging and complex mysteries in medicine. It’s one of the best in the country, and Ethan here is the leader.”

“We actually just got back from Amsterdam for a conference a few weeks ago. A fellow doctor and mentor of ours was dying and we didn’t know how to help him. It was tough, but we figured it out, and Ethan delivered very risky phage therapy and saved his life. We published our research and gave speeches until we couldn’t talk anymore.”

“She’s giving me way too much credit. She figured it out, I just followed her lead.”

Margaret watches the young couple with a slight smile on her face. It’s cute how much they talk each other up, so much so that they bicker. “How about we strike a compromise and call it even? You’re both brilliant!”

“I can live with that,” Naomi concedes.

“So this diagnostics team is successful?” William asks rhetorically. “I must say I’m impressed, Ethan. I always figured you’d make something of yourself.”

Ethan’s eyes widen at the statement. “Excuse me?”

“You’re doing well, you have a lovely girlfriend, you have great career successes. I always had great hope for you.”

“That’s a lie,” Ethan says with a snort. “You had preconceived expectations for me, and when I refused to conform, you all but disowned me.”

Margaret reaches across the table in an attempt to hold her son’s hand, but he recoils. “Ethan, must we do this now? We’re having such a nice dinner.”

“Yes. I haven’t seen you guys in years because of the lack of support I received, so forgive me if I have no interest in a revisionist history. I worked my ass off to get where I am, you don’t get to insert yourself in my life at the peak and pretend that you were along for the entire time, because it’s simply not the truth. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that we’re a happy family. You threw me to the wolves.”

“You always were one for dramatics and petulance,” Williams quips with an eyeroll.

“I apologize for not having stoicism so stifling, it borders on sociopathy. It’s been over 20 years since I left home and you still refuse to acknowledge your shortcomings as a father.”

“Enlighten me on these so-called shortcomings,” William goads. “Were the fancy vacations and top notch private schools not to your standards? Did the housekeeper not fluff your pillows enough?”

“I suppose I could thank you for supporting me financially supporting me for the first 18 years of my life, but that’s literally the bare minimum of parenting. I can care less about how much money you spent on me, but that’s your clutch. It’s what you use to keep everyone in your life around. You were cold, and callous, and manipulative. I spent most of my childhood afraid of disappointing you because you don’t know the meaning of true, unconditional love, and one false move could cause the next Cold War. And the minute I stood up for myself, you tossed me aside. I can count on one hand how many times you’ve reached out. I went to college in a different state and my own father couldn’t be bothered to at least call and see if I was still alive, my mother either. You’ve never shown interest in my job, hell, you don’t even know the name of the hospital I’ve been at for 13 years.”

Ethan abruptly stands, starling Naomi. “I need some air.”

“Ethan, wait!” Naomi calls, but he’s already dashing out of their dining room, leaving her in a very awkward situation with his parents.

Margaret wrings her hands together anxiously. “I apologize, Naomi.”

“There’s no need to apologize to me,” Naomi says.

William takes a sip of his wine. “You must think we’re crazy.”

“No.” Naomi sighs heavily. “Can I say something?”

“Of course.”

“With all due respect, Mister and Missus Ramsey, you guys hurt Ethan,” Naomi starts. “It doesn’t matter if it was intentional or not, he’s hurt and upset. And I think at least validating that would mean a lot to him. You guys have a truly amazing, smart, compassionate son, and you’re missing out on just how wonderful he truly is. It would be a shame to continue missing out over foolish pride.”

She stands up and grabs her purse. “I guess I should go find him. Thank you so much for inviting us out tonight.” Feeling like she should say something else, Naomi points to the bottle of wine sitting on the table. “And you picked out a lovely bottle of Pinot Noir.”

After excusing herself from the dining room, Naomi leaves and finds Ethan outside of the restaurant. He’s crouched over, hands on his knees, shoulders hunched.

“Ethan? Are you okay?”

Ethan’s head snaps up upon hearing his girlfriend’s voice. “I’m sorry for leaving you in there, it was dumb of me.”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“I just...I couldn’t sit in there any longer and listen to him talk anymore. Or watch my mother say or do absolutely nothing.”

“We can leave if you’re ready to go,” Naomi suggests.

Leaving sounded great. Pushing himself off of the wall, Ethan nods. “You know what? I am ready to go.”

“Where’s your coat?” Naomi asks, noticing that he was missing it.

“I left it in the dining room.”

“We can always pick it up tomorrow if you don’t want to go back in there.”

“No, it’s fine,” Ethan insists. “It’ll just take a quick second.”

“Okay. But I’m coming with you.”

They walk back into the restaurant and head straight back to the dining room, ignoring the rest of the patrons. Margaret and William are talking in hushed tones, but that all stops when they see Ethan and Naomi re-enter the room.

“I’m just grabbing my jacket, and then we’re leaving,” Ethan says.

“Ethan, wait!” William exclaims. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Ethan, please,” William pleads. “I really don’t want to end things on bad terms.”

Ethan hesitates for a moment before giving in. “You wanted to talk? Talk.”

“I’m sorry,” William says. He shares a glance with his wife. “We both are. We invited you guys here tonight to start fresh, but things obviously needed to be said and not swept under the rug. But I apologize for hurting you. You deserve more than we gave you, and I’ve always hated myself for alienating you and letting you leave. You were always so headstrong and stubborn, and I was envious of that. I’m not saying I have any regrets about my career, because I don’t, but my life was set out for me, and I guess I was a bit resentful of the fact that you chose to buck tradition and live freely.”

That’s news to Ethan. He never bothered wondering why his dad was always so hard on him.

“Obviously, we can’t make up for 21 years of tension and strife,” Margaret continues. “But we can make the most of our time now. Life is short, and we love you.”

“I love you guys, too,” Ethan confesses after a moment of silence. And he was at a place in his life where he didn’t want to be bitter and angry, especially at a man who is potentially dying.

“And we’ll be staying out here for a while, with my hospital and cancer treatments being based at Mass Kenmore.” Ethan cringes at the mention of that hospital, but he stays quiet. “Can we at least try to make some time for each other?”

Ethan bites the inside of his cheek in contemplation. He didn’t know if he was ready to assimilate his parents back into his life. Naomi squeezes his hand affectionately, a silent show of support.

“I’m not making any promises, but we can try,” Ethan concedes.

Margaret smiles. “You know what? That's good enough for us. We’ll take it.”

~~V~~

Ethan and Naomi don’t stay at the hospital long after that, opting to go back to the comfort of their apartment. It had been a long day and they no longer had the energy.

Now they were sitting in the large bathtub in their en-suite, overlooking the gorgeous Boston skyline.

“So…how are you feeling?” Naomi asks. “Today was a lot to deal with.”

“I’m tired.”

“I figured. How are you feeling about your parents though?”

Ethan doesn’t respond. Instead he buries his face in the crook of his girlfriend’s neck, ignoring the berry scented bubbles that tickle his nose.

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “Vindicated, I guess. I never thought I’d see the day William Ramsey issues an apology. Granted, it was over 20 years late.”

“I think it was sincere though.”

“I do too. But when we have kids someday, I want them to have to wait until they’re 39 years old for closure. I want them to know that I’ll never let my pride come before them. I want them to know that they can do whatever they want, and I’ll love them regardless. I’ll always love them, and support their decisions, and they’ll always have me in their corner.”

Naomi’s throat tightens. Ethan didn’t say if they had kids, but when.

Of course she knew they were in a serious relationship — they lived together for goodness sake — but he never really spoke definitively of their future.

“Oh, so we’re having kids?” Naomi teases. She cranes her neck so she can get a good look at him.

It dawns on Ethan that he slipped up and started talking about their hypothetical future together. His cheeks turn a deep shade of red and Naomi can’t recall a time she’s ever seen him so flustered.

“Yes,” Ethan answers, matter of factly. “And they’ll be beautiful like their mother.”

Naomi turns around so she can face Ethan, ignoring the soapy water that sloshes out of the bathtub and onto the floor.

“And as lovely as these hypothetical children sound, I don’t think they’ll be here anytime soon. Not until we talk more about our future, marriage, and all of that good stuff.”

Ethan bites down on his tongue. Tucked away in his safe is a 4-carat cushion-cut diamond ring with Naomi’s name on it. But she doesn’t need to know that...yet.

“I love you,” He says.

“I love you too.”

“Thank you for having my back tonight.”

“Of course.” Naomi leans down and kisses Ethan, a kiss that’s over far too quickly for his liking. “There’s nowhere else I’ll ever be.”

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #choices: open heart #ethan ramsey #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #pixelberry

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jj-lives · 5 years ago

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Inktober - Freeze

Again, all my Inktober pieces are part of the same verse and I hope to piece them together in a cohesive manner after I am finished, but for now enjoy the confusing time skips.

---------------------------------------------------

Holding the door she let Blake enter first. As always, Yang received a grateful smile in return for her chivalry. As Blake brushed passed Yang hurriedly followed intent to remain close. They’d been separated for far too long in her mind and she yearned to make up for lost time.

“You find a table and I’ll get our order?” Yang asked rocking back and forth, heel to toe. Why the hell was she nervous?

“Sounds good to me.” Blake scanned the establishment for an empty table and Yang watched on knowing she’d be looking for one out of the way of most patrons. When Blake’s eyes returned to find Yang’s feet still cemented to the floor she chuckled. At least she found her antsy behaviour more endearing than annoying. “You going to actually place the order or should I do that too?”

“Oh, right.” Yang quickly stepped past her. “No. No, I’ll get our order. You just continue scrutinizing every table. Hopefully you find a suitable one by the time I get back.”

“That’s rude.” Blake deadpanned.

Yang spun on her heel, surprised at Blake’s affronted appearance. It was a joke. She hadn’t meant it in a negative light. She actually thought Blake’s over analyzation on certain things adorable.

“I’m s-”

The corner of Blake’s mouth twitched catching Yang’s attention. It was only then that she noticed the sparkle in her amber eyes. Blake was toying with her!

“You’re so easy!” Blake broke character seeing the realization take over Yang’s features. “You are totally off your game Xiao Long.”

“You will pay for this,” she said with narrowed eyes.

Rolling her eyes, Blake moved to step around her heading for a table that must have checked the majority of her personal requirements. Yang’s arm shot out to block her way.

Her brow raised as she turned her perplexed gaze on Yang. She couldn’t help herself anymore. Blake had been very sly and playful since Yang picked her up. She might play up her exasperation whenever Bratty Blake showed herself but honestly she fell even more in love with Blake in these moments. Who else could keep her on her toes like this. It amazed her how in the first few months of their acquaintance she had pegged Blake as a quiet, shy bookworm. The reality was quite the opposite. Actually, that was a lie. Blake could be shy. She could be quiet. She was most definitely a bookworm, but those things were just a small portion of who she was. It astonished her with how much she knew about Blake that the other was still able to surprise her. Blake was still able to throw curveballs at her.

And maybe that’s why that magnetism never went away. Yang was happy to find that the pull she’d felt in the beginning of their friendship never once faded.

Her patience wore down as Yang continued to stare at her unmoving. When her mouth opened to form a question Yang made her move. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Blake’s right cheek, barely skimming the corner of her mouth.

“Oh!” Blake exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise and delight.

Yang left her standing dumbstruck just inside the entrance and made her way to the counter. They’d been here so many times in the past it was useless asking if Blake wanted to try something new. Once that girl decided on something she liked that was it. There wasn’t anyway anyone could change her mind.

Order in hand she made her way to the table Blake selected against the far back wall.

“Strawberry and Lime milkshake for milady.” Yang set the cold glass on the table by Blake’s elbow before falling into the booth across from her.

“Why thank you…” the last word trailed with an air of slyness which caught her attention. “My peasant.” Blake finished with a wide smile.

Yang’s jaw dropped, but Blake seemed not to care. She pulled the frosted glass gift Yang brought her closer and took a sip. She moaned as the flavours hit her tongue.

Yang wasn’t about to let the comment go though.

“Peasant? Really?”

Blake nodded resolutely.

“But, a peasant? That’s so mean.”

“Hey, the world was built off the hard labour of peasants.” Blake explained. “Besides, if you are going to be my chauffeur, call me milady, hold doors open for me and bring me food and drinks, -basically be at my beck and call- all I’m saying is if the shoe fits.”

“Brat.”

“What was that?” Blake questioned. “You were kind of mumbling.”

“I called you a Brat with a capital B.”

“So much for milady, huh? Too bad. I think I could have gotten used to that one.”

Yang rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her raspberry shake. She watched as Blake sucked back a good portion of her glass.

“You should slow down with that,” she warned.

“Why? Afraid I’m going to get fat?” She queried as she took another large sip, challenging Yang with a glare.

“Hardly.” Yang responded shaking her head. “That kind of thing doesn’t matter to me.”

Blake took one more sip before pushing her half empty glass to the side. She smiled softly at Yang, her teasing mien disappearing at her words. A drop of cream clung to her bottom lip and it took all Yang’s willpower not to lean over the table to lick it clean.

A twitch at the corner of Blake’s eye was Yang’s first clue something was wrong. The hiss that escaped through Blakes gritted teeth was the next.

“What’s the matter?” Yang leaned forward, reaching her hand to take a hold of Blake’s elbow in support.

“Brain freeze,” Blake wheezed and Yang could feel her knee jump under the table as it brushed against her own.

“And this is what I was warning you about.” Yang tsked. The next moan to leave Blake’s lips was not one of pleasure and it nearly broke her heart. “Oh, Blake.” Yang hated to see her in pain, even if it was only due to ice cream. Even if the pain was self inflicted and totally preventable if she’d just taken her advice. Yang pushed her glass out of the way to get better access as she placed her palm along the side of Blake’s neck. “Stick your tongue to the roof of your mouth and breathe through your nose.” Pressing her index and middle finger she drew a small line into the hairline at the back of Blake’s neck. She continued until Blake’s knee stopped tapping her own.

“Thanks,” Blake voiced meekly. “Guess it’s my own fault for being a brat again, huh?”

Yang released her hold to the back of Blake’s neck and traced her fingers along her jaw in their retreat. She took this moment to take in the other’s beauty. She still felt like some sort of stalker when she stared too long, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself. Her fingers dipped to cup Blake’s chin and Yang allowed her thumb to trace the length of Blakes bottom lip. Blake must have been short on breath after the brain freeze; if the gasp she took in was any indication.

Releasing Blake completely she brought her thumb to her own lips. Humming as her tongue flicked out to taste the drop she’d collected from Blake’s lips.

“I can see why you like that flavour so much.” Yang smiled as Blake tucked her chin in, staring down at her hands in embarrassment. “And you have nothing to apologize for.”

Blake scoffed.

“I’m serious. I love your bratty side, even if it seems to be the bane of my existence some days. You keep me guessing and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, okay?”

Nodding her head, Blake picked up her glass to bring the straw to her lips. Yang raised her brow quizzically.

“Don’t worry,” she said taking a small sip. “I will be careful. I do not want a repeat of that.”

“Can I have a taste?” Yang asked, staring at what was left in her glass.

“Didn’t you already get one?” Her teasing smirk returned, but she pushed the glass towards Yang in silent acquiescence.

“I wouldn’t mind a repeat.” Yang shot her own teasing smirk across the table.

Blake roared in laughter. “There’s the Yang I know and love. Where have you been hiding?”

“I was just silently enjoying your company.” Yang said quietly. Honestly.

She took a sip, letting the flavours swirl around her tongue before swallowing. She approved. It was definitely a good combination. Blake’s countenance turned serious as Yang passed the drink back.

“Blake?”

“I missed you,” she almost whispered. “Is that weird?”

“Why would that be weird?” Her hand tightened around Blake’s elbow, silently encouraging her.

“I’ve not been gone a full week, but I missed you so much.” Blake looked like she was upset with herself over the confession. She wouldn’t look Yang in the eye no matter how far Yang dipped her head to try and catch sight of their beautiful amber tones. “I’ve never missed anyone like that before. I-” Her eyes darted to anyone in earshot, anyone but Yang. “Is that wrong?”

“Is what wrong?” Yang wasn’t sure if she meant missing her or not missing others in the same way.

“Missing you. Like that.”

“Does it feel wrong?”

Yang could feel her heart hammering in her throat. She swallowed to force a blockage down that didn’t exist. Anxiety over Blake’s next answer creeped up on her causing her nerves to turn jittery. Why was she taking so long to answer?

“No.” Blake finally responded and Yang was able to breathe once more. “That’s the thing. It doesn’t feel wrong at all.”

“I missed you so fucking much” Yang laughed. “Ruby kicked me out twice this week because I was annoying her with how much I spoke about you.”

“Seriously?” Skepticism apparent in her tone.

“Ask Ruby yourself. She came up with this whole theory that since I couldn’t see you I quadrupled the amount I’d say your name to fool myself into thinking you weren’t really gone.” Yang’s laughter died. “So if it’s wrong to feel this way we can be wrong together.”

“I like that.”

“Good, that’s settled.” Blake moved to grasp Yang’s hand in her own, squeezing it firmly three times. “Just,” Yang squeezed back three times, “don’t ever go away again.”

Blake smiled at her childish wish. “I can’t promise that.” Yang pouted. “But I can say you are more than welcome to join me next time.”

“You mean…” Yang trailed off as the blood drained from her face.

“Yup, my dad is particularly interested in meeting you.”

#bumbleby #inktober #day 4 freeze #my writing

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love-can-be-as-cold-as-grave · 5 years ago

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Chapter 33: You’re All I Ever Wanted

[December 31, 2020]

Liv looked over her shoulder, mischievously grinning at the sleeping lump hidden beneath the black covers, an intricately tattooed hand sticking out from one corner. She turned back to peek through the glowing slit in the ebony curtains. I’ll never get sick of this view, she thought, watching the light snow falling in delicate flurries upon the already blanketed backyard. Pressed in to the sweeping blanched yard were the small imprints of birds and critters. Tucked to the side were their bicycles, hidden beneath a tarp, awaiting the spring.

Grabbing the corner of the curtains Liv pulled them back, basking the dark room in the alabaster glow of a snowy morning. “Up! Nouse ylös! (Get up!)” Smiling to herself she crossed the room to rummage through their ornate ebony dresser, wondering exactly how cold it was outside. Even after two odd years living in Finland, figuring out the right attire was still a mystery to Liv after LA’s eternal heat. It’s freezing right? Long sleeves right?

Annoyed grumbling came from the bed lump as it shifted positions, turning away from the light to face the opposite end of the room.

Liv slipped off her red checkered pajama pants, pulling out a pair distressed black boyfriend jeans. “Don’t make me go in there and get you!” She laughed, setting the jeans to the side and sifting through shirts. Yup, long sleeve is probably best. A sweater too?

The grumbling grew playfully louder, and with that Liv forgot changing altogether and crept towards the edge of the bed, grabbing the end of the blanket, lifting it up and squirmed her way under. The light shining in from the window illuminated the curled up figure beneath, peeking out from beneath his arm, smile twitching on his lips as she crawled her way up the length of his body, throwing a knee over him and straddling his chest, hands resting on the bed on either side of his face, caging him in.

Ville peaked out again from beneath his forearm, green eyes alive with amusement as he finally pulled his arm away, bringing both his hands to Liv’s forearms and running his fingers up and down them innocently. He stared up at Liv, fighting back a smile, admiring the sparkle in her rested eyes, the sensation of her long black hair brushing his bare skin, the small goosebumps of pleasure appearing on her forearms “Oh you’re up? I’ve been waiting ages darling. Did you forget that we were joining Jesse for breakfast before my meeting?” He grabbed her wrists, tugging them out from under her so that she fell onto his chest and rolled, changing their positions and pinning her down to the bed. “How could you Kultaseni?”

Liv laughed, stretching out her neck to give him a longing and loving kiss on the lips, smirking with amusement as she pulled away to see a hungry smirk on his pale face, setting off the slight wrinkles around his eyes, curly hair in messy tousles. “Oh no sir, no can do. We’ll be late.”

Ville rolled his eyes before lowering his head, running his nose along her jawline then slowly down her neck, “He’s my brother, he’ll understand.”

***

Ville watched with amusement as Jesse inhaled his enormous breakfast, raising a questioning brow as he took a sip of his coffee. They sat in a small cafe and bookshop in the heart of Helsinki. The cafe was filled with the inviting aroma of books and coffee and the low hum of sleepy new years eve patrons. Outside the snow continued to fall it’s familiar dance. The three of them sat in the corner, Liv and Ville next to each other, and Jesse across from them. After making it out of bed Ville had thrown on a white T-shirt, plain black hoodie, black jeans, and black coat, leaving his curls down in a mess.

"Mitä?(What?),” Jesse asked, catching Ville’s stare, “I'm bulking." Jesse mumbled, a forkful of eggs stuffed into his mouth. He had on a light gray sweater, dark blonde hair cropped short.

Liv let her hand rest on Ville's lap, fork half heartedly moving the fruit salad around on her plate. "When is your next match?" Her long black hair was down in its natural waves, falling past her shoulders, reaching down to her waist, the longest it had been for a while. She had on a tight fitting horizontally striped turtleneck tucked in to her black boyfriend jeans, black belt completing the look. Something seemed off with her that morning after they finally managed to leave the bed. Something was troubling her.

Ville took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze before interlacing his ringed fingers with hers, playing with the small shiny engagement ring. He knew exactly what it was. It was the same thing that had been troubling her for a while now. Moments of hopefulness, and then disappointment.

"Next week." Jesse smiled happily, oblivious to the concerned looks Ville was giving Liv from the corner of his eye. He washed down his mouthful with some milk. “I have to make sure I take it easy tonight. Two beers, tops. Okay maybe three, but that’s it or else my coach will kill me.” He took a bite of toast before gesturing with it towards Ville and Liv, “What do you two have planned tonight?”

Liv tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, placing her utensils on her plate having given up on the meal, and leaned back in her chair, taking her cup of tea in to her free hand. “Well this vampire hermit,” she nudge Ville gently with her elbow, “wanted to stay in and watch Night of the Living Dead,” she flashed him a smirk, “but I’ve convinced him to come out to a party at Jussi’s Helsinki apartment.” The smirk didn’t touch her eyes. She’s putting on a niceties for Jesse but her mind is elsewhere.

“Tyypilliesti! (Typical!)” Jesse laughed, just as the familiar sound of Livs ringtone began to hum.

Liv pulled it out, giving it a glance before stuffing it back in her pocket. He knew that expression, it was a business call but she didn't want to be rude by answering. Jesse wouldn't mind, he loved Liv like his own sister; she could do no wrong. "Just answer it sweetheart." He smiled. Two workaholics sit down in a cafe… Ville mused as Liv said her apologies to Jesse, grabbing her long black coat and stepping outside to answer it.

"So," Jesse snuck a look outside at Liv as she paced, talking with animation to, whome Ville could only assume was Siri, given the familiar expression of happy annoyance on her face as she spoke, "Aiotteko te tehdä teistä minusta setän, milloin tahansa? (Are you two going to make me an uncle anytime soon?)"

Ville took a deep breath, running his hands over his face, a little unsurprised with the inquiry. That was the million dollar question everyone seemed to be asking them since they had gotten married. He was thankful that Jesse at least had some tact and asked when Liv had stepped out. "There's been, um…" he interlaced his fingers beneath his chin, watching as the flurries began to cover Liv's hair with snow, her cheeks turning red from the cold, "There are some complications from the, the crash. We saw a physician in June and were advised to keep trying despite the chances being quite low.” A part of him had begun to feel the weight of guilt. They'd been trying since May, and despite having a doctor confirm Liv's fears they'd of course kept up their efforts, but that hopeful excitement had faded from Ville, leaving him jaded but supportive. He couldn't let himself get his hopes up any longer with each passing month, and he felt guilty for it. He simply did not understand how Liv could continue going through the same vicious cycle, the same eager anticipation and then crushing disappointment. It hurt him to realize that they may no longer be on the same page. Before leaving for breakfast, he had taken note of the extent of Liv’s investment, their washroom counter full of vitamins, a calender tracking her cycle, a small stack of books on conception. Maybe I am quick to lose hope, maybe I am being pessimistic, but I’m hurting twice as much as the time keeps passing, my own pain yes, but hers too. Perhaps we should take a step back, a break from the fixation of it so that we may begin to prepare ourselves for the realization that this may not happen for us...again.

Jesse wiped his mouth with a napkin, looking at his brother with seriousness. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. You could always adopt? Try some of that fertility stuff?”

Ville shrugged, looking away from Jesse and back towards Liv. She caught his eye with a glance and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry’ before turning back around. Ville looked back to Jesse, running a hand through his hair, “She doesn’t want to think about fertility treatments and the like, let alone try them. I’m trying my best to be supportive, and at this point I’m not sure I care as much about conceiving as I did, I’m more worried about her more than anything else.”

Suddenly the soft tinkling of the cafe doorbell rang as Liv hurriedly rushed back to her seat next to Ville, the snow already melting in her hair. “I’m sorry, there was a scheduling mishap and my shoot today got moved up.” She shrugged off her coat, the blush reddening further on her cheeks. “But they can wait cause I want to hear all about this match.”

***

Liv let her fingertips trace the designs on the graffitied wall. I don’t need to check. I don’t need to check.

“I forgot to ask! How was your christmas? Did your dad and grandfather enjoy Helsinki? What presents did you and Ville exchange?” Siri grinned as she zipped up the last of the carrying cases for their camera equipment, picking it up and adding it to a pile with the rest. She’d dyed her pixie hair a bright red and had on the oddest set of oversized striped overalls atop a green turtleneck.

Liv took a seat on the worn cushioned bench, crossing her legs at the ankles. They’d had a brief promotional shoot at Tavastia for an upcoming show. The entire place was a wealth of memories. She could almost imagine the guys, grinning and snarling back at her as she shot photographs for them there and the very same room.

How was my Christmas?, “It was really nice.” She smiled softly to herself as she remembered the satanic ornaments Ville had gotten for their tree. Her favorite has been the one he’d made himself though. He’d painted a white door on a clear ornament. On the door was a little 666 in red script, marking it as the lair of the beast. He’d filled the ornament with little squares of paper with scribbled lines, representing the pages and pages of lyrics she had, and still takes up in his notebooks. “Ville was a really good sport with everything, and everyone, even though this isn't his favorite time of year. Dad and gramps hated the cold, but I figured as much. They did love Ville’s moms cooking, but gramps liked the liquor cabinet more. My dad didn’t touch a single drop though. Joan has him on a health kick getting ready for his wedding. Gifts? I bought Ville a really beautiful guitar I found at auction that was once owned by Elvis. He was head over heels. I’m surprised it didn’t take my place in our bed. And Ville is going to take me to Budapest to visit the other half of my family in February, just before he’s back on tour with The Agents. Overall, good family time, good food, and fantastic husband who kept me from getting too stressed out hosting everyone.” Complete understatement, Liv thought. Ville had been some sort of super human, running around getting groceries, keeping her family entertained, helping her clean, calming her down, and most importantly, fronting the inevitable question. The question…

She got up, grabbing the equipment carriers and tossing a few straps over her shoulders, Siri following her lead. Overloaded with equipment they wound around the back corridors of the venue until they came to the back door that led out to the parking lot. Turning the handle with her elbows Liv held the door for Siri, the light flurries unrelenting on the cold December day.

Siri ducked past Liv as she held the door “Sounds about the same as mine, except no out of town relatives and a wonderful fiance, almost husband.” Trying not to tip over with the equipment under one arm she unlocked the trunk of her new pink Smart Car and began loading the gear into the trunk.

“How is Kosmo?” Liv smiled, remembering the frantic call she’d gotten from Kosmo a few months prior, asking for help choosing the right ring.

Siri laughed, grabbing the camera straps hanging off of Liv’s arms and tucking the cameras neatly in the trunk before shutting it and leaning back against the car. “He’s great. Keeps going on about wedding plans. I wouldn't mind an elopement! Oh and kids, he’s talking about kids! That man…” She chuckled as she shook her head.

Liv’s chest tightened at the word, teeth biting down on her lower lip. Kids… Even the mention of them was enough to set her off. The feeling of not being able to conceive was indescribable. It felt like a weight, crushing down upon her, this total feeling of being a failure, and having it tied so closely to the traumas of her past only resulted in her having to face them all over again. She’d been trying to cope as best she could, but each passing month brought its heartbreak. Throughout the ordeal so far she had learned the never ending nature of Ville’s supportive devotion to her. He came to every doctor's appointment, held her hand through it all, read books, bought vitamins and foods, he did it all, but she knew. She knew it was for her and her alone.

I don’t need to check.

There is a pharmacy just around the corner, I could just quickly stop in and buy a test. I have felt different lately. And my period is late. But then again, it was late the past four negatives too. No I won’t get a test. I shouldn't.

“Ville!” Siri grinned with her child-like smile as she spotted Ville walking across the parking lot in their direction, bundled up in his coat, a scarf, beanie, and backpack thrown over one shoulder. He gave her a wave of greeting.

Liv turned, watching with curiosity as he approached, her lips freed from her teeth as she smiled, “Well this is a nice surprise.”

He shrugged, wrapping one arm around the small of her back and giving her a kiss on the cheek, “I thought I could come escort you home since I finished my meeting early.”

Siri pulled open the driver side door, rolling her eyes with a smirk, “You two are disgustingly cute.” Siri laughed, hoping in to the car, “I’ll see you next week Liv, have a happy new year!”

They watched Siri carefully maneuver through the snowy lot and on to the road. The skies above a light grey, with nights blanket of ebony slowly arrive.

“So,” Liv said, turning to Ville, fingers playing with the strings on his hoodie, “What really brings you by?” He was easy to read when he had ulterior motives, his smile was always a little crooked when he was up to something, she’d spotted it immediately.

“Such a sleuth,” he joked, unzipping his backpack and pulled out a new pair of beautiful black gloves trimmed in faux leather. Liv took them, gingerly pulling them on with a brilliant grin. She’d been needing a new pair of gloves, and they fit perfectly. “I thought my dear,” he took her hand, wrapping it around his arm and guided her out of the parking lot, “that we could walk home along the pier.”

Both of their black docs shuffling in the piling snow they began to walk arm in arm. “Thank you, truly. These gloves are beautiful. But you do know it’s like an hour long walk right? But if you need that much time to spill the beans then sure darling, I don’t mind.” The streets around them were surprisingly busy. The snow was not one to slow a Fin, and with it being New Years eve, last minute preparations were being made by everyone as they rushed to and fro.

“Spill the beans, funny turn of phrase, I wonder where it…” Liv gave him a mock look of exasperation as they crossed the street and on to the pier, their breaths blowing out in pearlescent puffs. Ships tarped and bunkered down for the winter bobbed gently as the ocean gave it's push and wall against the port. “Alright I shall get to the point.” He stopped walking. “You seemed troubled this morning, and I suspect why. I know it’s been difficult for you, and I’m trying my absolute best to be the doting and supportive husband but I’m afraid I can’t do what you do. I can’t keep getting my hopes up every time. I am becoming worn out, and I don’t want that. I don’t want that at all. I want to be happy and eager, but seeing you crushed every month is taking its toll on me because I,” his eyes glistened with tears, “I can’t give you the one thing you want.” He took her hands in his, the sea breeze tugging at the loose strands of his curls sticking out from under the beanie. "Darling I think, and please listen to me, I think we should take a break from trying.”

She’d been staring at him with shock, trying to digest his words as he spoke with his heart, but that final sentence had broken hers. Her gloved hands slipped from his, and before she could censor herself, she spoke harshly, “You don’t want a child?

He shook his head, trying to take her hand again but she pulled back, "No that's not what I'm saying at all, and you know that. I'm both worried about you, about the stress, and honestly, I’m worried about myself too. You are paramount in my concerns, but I also am trying not to end up in such a place where I think of our efforts as a burden. Please, just think about what I’m saying and consider it will you?"

Liv looked away from his face, out at the cloud covered sea. She hadn’t realized the extent of is own pain in all this, nor the ramifications it could have. Am I selfish? Have I only been thinking about myself? I want us to be on the same page, I don’t want this whole thing to be like it’s become, clouded by what we learned at the doctor, what I feared. We should be, and stay happy and hopeful. It hasn’t even been a full year of trying, how have I let myself get to this, this point? He’s right isn’t he. Maybe we do need to take a breather from this. She took his hand in hers and nodded lightly.

***

He wasn’t sure exactly what reaction he’d get from her, but he hadn’t imagined the quiet, digestive, withdrawal. He took a sip of beer, smiling down at the christmas card they had received from Marcus. It was a sweet family photograph with Hanna and his two daughters, the whole family adorned in heartagram T-shirts and wild hair in a parody of terrible 80’s-style family portraits. He set the card back down on the mantelpiece and looked longingly at the stairs. After returning home she’d hurried off to their bedroom to get ready for the party, or at least that had been her excuse. He’d learned long ago to let her have her space, that she would talk to him when she was ready, something she’d been working really hard to do after their love story had picked back up again.

Unsure what to do with himself while he waited for her to finish getting ready he meandered over to the small studio and took a seat at their piano, setting his drink done on the floor. The sky had darkened quite quickly after they’d returned, and the temperature dropped further, the snow still falling in gentle whisps. He played a note, and then another absentmindedly, enjoying the sensation of the smooth ivory as he gazed upon the collection of posters, prints, and photographs around the room.

Situated lovingly across from the piano was a large print of one of their wedding photographs. It was his favorite one. Their wedding had been held in the fall in Oulun Hautausmaa, one of Finland's oldest cemeteries. It had been a bright sunny day, the trees casting shadows, the small group of twenty odd guests braving the cool breeze. Siri, who had passionately offered her services to take photographs during the day had captured the moment Ville had lifted up and pulled back the vintage lace veil Liv had worn. She was laughing with loving amusement, black hair in beautiful curls trailing down the bare back of her lace, sleeved, mermaid style dress, a small bouquet of wildflowers clutched in one hand. In front of her Ville held his mouth, overcome with emotion at the sight of Liv, his other hand clutching his chest. Seeing her coming down the aisle like some ethereal ghost had stunned him speechless, he’d never felt so incredibly overwhelmed before, and then to pull back the veil and see her blushing face, staring back at him with pure happy joy.

“You know, you still look at me like that.” Liv stepped in to the doorway, her mood lightened. She had changed into a simple, long sleeved, mid-thigh, fitted maroon dress, black hair styled in waves, and her lips rouged a dark red.

Ville grinned, unable to help himself as he scooted over on the stool, inviting her to join him. "And I always will. Come, play with me, we've got," he took a quick glance at his wristwatch, "fifteen minutes before our cab arrives."

A soft smile spread across her red lips as she crossed the room, sliding in to the space to the left of him, resting her head on his shoulder, fingers hovering over the keys.

He wished he had the ability to make her feel better, to do more than he could, but couldn't. Tragedy clings to you like a parasite doesn't it traagisesti kaunis rakkauteni. He waited for her to pick a song as he peppered the top of her head with kisses until suddenly she sat up and brought her fingers down on the keys.

[ https://youtu.be/ppWz9O78DgI ]

The note was deep and sombre. Ville stared, confused, unsure which song it was as she played the same keys in fast succession, before reaching her right hand across him, fingers sliding over the ivory. He recognized the notes instantly, smirking at her as she waited for him to identify the song. He took over from her hand, and together with firm hands they dug in to the keys, playing Liv’s favorite song. The sounds were harsh, and pounding with rough passion on Liv’s end as she put the weight of her body in to every note with closed eyes. Soon the song began to slow, and Ville took control of the melody, bringing in gentler, softer notes.They played together, riffing with each other, each knowing the notes by heart, souls pouring in to the piece.

This song would always have a special place in his heart, not only because he knew it was Liv’s favorite but because that night, the night Liv had let her heart lead, and not run from it, was the night he’d understood, truly, what love was. To love and be loved was not simply burning passions, nor heart wrenching adoration and infatuation, love is compromise, love is wanting to be the best version of yourself for that person, love is give and take, love is learning, learning together, and growing together. Now, he got to wake up every morning next to her, next to pure euphoric happiness, next to the person who challenged him, inspired him, made him feel humble yet invincible, the person who picked him up, who understood him like no one had before or ever would. And to think, they’d both almost lost each other.

Maybe I was wrong, he thought, the notes bleeding in to him, maybe we need to keep trying, do whatever it takes, persevere.

***

He handed the acoustic guitar back to Jussi, "How do you always rope me into playing when I come over?"

Mige rolled his eyes, "Oh please, you adore the attention." He swung back the rest of his beer before roughly placing the bottle down on the counter and scratched his beard.

"Maybe," Ville winked, wiping the sweat off of his brow with his forearm, the sleeves of his dress short rolled up, the top buttons undone.

"Hey where did zombie fucker go?" Mige asked, slumping down on a loveseat, grabbing a shinny 2021 hat and plopping it on his head.

Ville looked around quickly, unable to spot her in the room, "I'm not sure. And stop calling her that! She only accepts zombie lover, or Liv Valo." He gave Mige a playful punch on the thigh before leaving it side.

The party had been well under way when they'd arrived. The two story apartment was crammed with people, many of the guests were Finnish artists and other people in the music industry. After a winter of reclusive rehearsals and time off basking in the warmth of home, it had been a bit jarring for Ville to be thrown into the viper pit of socializing, but finding Mige there had been a welcome surprise. Liv had stayed by his side mostly, reminiscing with Mige, sharing gig horror stories with Jannah, a photography friend of hers, jumping on the piano at some point to play some Mozart, comparing tattoos with Jyrkie, but Ville couldn't help but notice that she seemed a bit off. Her energy had been less than half what it would normally be in these situations. Typically the social butterfly, she still was, but more mellow, not really present. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but she still had that look of sad contemplation in her eyes, despite the smiles on her lips. He wondered if she was still upset with him. Something was the matter.

She'd disappeared somewhere between Living on a Prayer, and Jailhouse Rock which were four or so songs ago, and so turning down another beer from Mige, Ville went looking for Liv. He pushed his way through the crowds of intoxicated and cheerful people, moving from the dining room to the kitchen, checking even the patio despite knowing Liv had quit smoking earlier in the year. He sighed, going back in to do another scan before noticing a line of women waiting outside of the hallway washroom. Giving them a shy smile he knocked on the door, “Liv? Are you in there?”

Amidst the blaring rock music coming from one of the rooms he could hear the door unlock, and, giving the women an apologetic look, he stepped in to the washroom, closing the door behind him. Liv sat on the edge of the small tub, elbows resting on her knees, her face clammy and pale. She gave him a weak smile.

“Darling is something the matter?” He crouched down to her eye level, brushing a loose strand of her hair out of her eyes. “Are you still upset?” She's either sick, or she’s been crying in here, he thought, unsure which it was, but wanting to make sure she was alright either way.

She shook her head, “No no, I just, I’m not feeling well. Ville this is different.” She took his hand in hers, casting her eyes down at the large silver rings on his fingers as she fiddled with them, words on the tip of her tongue ready to come out. “I was sick when we got back home. And I got sick again. I’ve uh, I’ve been throwing up…” She looked back up at him, trying to gage his reaction.

Throwing up? Throwing up. “Oh.” He managed to say. Could she? Without another thought he stood, extending his hand out towards her, “Let’s go and get a test right this minute.” Despite his sentiments earlier in the day he wanted to know. He needed to know. Being rational couldn't just erase the natural reaction to what Liv was telling him. He knew the possibility of disappointment was there, as it had been in the past, but he knew Liv, he knew if said this felt different, then it was.

Liv chuckled, a little taken aback by his reaction. "But today, you said…" She took his hand and carefully got to her feet, “And we’d miss the countdown.”

Ville unlocked the door, keeping her hand in his and leading her through the crowds gently, “Bullocks with the count down.”

***

Ville tapped his foot anxiously, heart feeling as if it would pound right out of his chest as he waited outside of the gas station washroom attached to the outside of the building. His stomach was doing somersaults. Alright, if it is a negative than perhaps we should see the doctor again, inquire regarding other options. I should take Liv home, maybe draw her a bath. Would her favorite bakery be open? No of course not… But what if it isn’t a negative? What if this is it? Really it.

Around him the flurries had finally stopped, street lights twinkling on the soft powdery snow.

The door slowly creaked open and Liv stepped out, her face blank, body bundled in a thick crimson coat, barrette atop her head, and worn doc martens. His poker face suddenly faltered to reveal a dazzlingly bright smile.

“Rambo!” Ville blurted out with a raspy laughed, grabbing Liv around the waist and spinning her as around them the sounds of the new year echoed in a chorus along the street with cheers and clankings pots and pans. Midnight had chimed.

“I’m sorry what?” Liv giggled, putting the capped test in her pocket and lacing her fingers in to Ville’s hair as he continued to hold her up in his arms, twirling her around the snow packed lot of the station.

“No, Hoff! No no, Ozzy!” Ville beamed as the two lovers basked in the glow of the stations outside lights, breaths billowing with white in the air, their happy giggles rising up in the raucous night.

Liv wrapped her arms around his neck, her happiness overwhelming, she knew, she knew it had felt different. “What on earth are you talking about?” She couldn’t stop chuckling as they spun and spun. She felt absolutely euphoric. A baby, she squealed internally, we’re going to have a baby! After everything. After that night of tears and pain, after heartbreak, after distance and passionate rekindling, after happy contentment, a child.

Ville felt lightheaded as he finally set her down, holding her chilled cheeks in between his hands, “Baby names my dear.” He was freezing. His boots were getting wet. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered anymore but her and the marvel of a little bean growing inside of her. He brought his lips to hers, eyes glistening with happy tears as he wrapped her in his warm embrace.

Liv kissed him back passionately, tears of happiness also streaming down her face, before catching her breath and resting her cheek on his chest. “Poe?” She asked, peeking up at him with a grin.

“Poe huh? Yeah, I like that.” Ville smirked, kissing the top of her head and hailing a cab that he spotted passing by. He tossed his arm around her shoulder lovingly, looking into her beautiful hazel eyes as they trudged through the soft snow, another wonderful year behind them, an even better one ahead. “Darling?” He asked, barely able to contain his chuckles.

Liv looked up at him with utter contentment as they just about reached the cab, the wind picking up and stirring her hair, “Hmm?”

“I suppose,” he winked down at her as he nudged her jokingly, “we’ll never enjoy the silence now.”

#ville valo #him #h.i.m.#his infernal majesty #fan fic

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technohumanlation · 5 years ago

Text

Whumptober Day 21

The ever so lovely @whumptober2019 made a list of prompts to complete every day for the whole month of October and I’m giving a shot at it this year!

Laced Drink

Characters: Nines, Gavin

Warnings: Attempted Date Rape, violence, swearing, blood

Give another round of applause for @deviantalicee for putting out this fire with gasoline a beta reading this. luv u hoe

Nines can’t remember the last time he had this much fun. Perhaps it was the fact that his definition of fun was strict and only a few things could make him smile. He was stoic, aloof and the serious type. That’s just how some people were. As Hank had once said, “knowing what makes you happy is all that matters.” A good book, a fast paced sparring session with Sixty, or a shower to be alone with his thoughts were pleasurable things.

Tonight was fun - is fun. Gavin and himself had set out to a local bar on a rowdy Friday night. A local band was also playing and providing entertaining music throughout the night. Everything was going well.

Gavin was on his second glass of whiskey, taking his time to loosen up and enjoy the night as well. His kisses tasted sweet against his tongue. These were the intimate, lovelier moments in which Nines craved. When the world was shut out and all there was was the moment between them.

His hand drew along his thigh reassuringly, turning to return watching the crowd. But, when he did so, a rather attractive android had bravely walked up to him.

Gavin was smart to look away and allow his android to figure this one out alone, much to his dismay. He only looked back at Gavin with confusion written on his face when she had taken him by his hands and practically dragged him to the dance floor. He raised his glass and ticked it to him unhelpfully.

She was gentle with her body as she danced and was truly a sweetheart in his eyes. But after a song and then two, Nines kissed her goodbye on the cheek and wished her night well. She wasn’t looking for anything and for that, Nines was thankful.

He walked back to the bar - a dopey smile on his face. It felt natural and relaxed, his LED spiraling a lovely blue. This night was wonderful. It was...the smile slowly fell from his face when he noticed that Gavin wasn’t where he had left him. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t at the bar at all.

His drink was left behind, the two ice cubes he specifically liked in his whiskey touching the bottom of the glass further. He looked up to the bartender but thought otherwise of his decision. There were countless patrons in the bar. Asking if he saw where a scruffy, hasn’t slept in four days, five o’clock shadowed man described about thirty percent of the people in here tonight.

Nines looked back down to the drink. Gavin always finished his whiskey. He never wasted a single drop. Perhaps he went for a bathroom break. But even then it was etiquette to place a coaster atop the drink to let the bartender know the patron would be coming back. Or to at least finish it because of certain precautions.

Unless. No . His chest tightened, ice shooting down his spine.

If he denied it, why was he taking the drink in hand and tasting it anyhow? His LED blinked a processing yellow as he swirled the drink in his mouth. It tasted of honey and stinging heat and the violent traces of rohypnol. A popular date rape drug.

The android slammed down the drink, causing people around him to look his way. This time he flagged down the bartender.

“Where is he ?” He muttered through grit teeth.

Gavin watched his android get pulled onto the dance floor by the pretty lady in black. He hadn’t felt this happy in a long while and he was glad Nines was loosening up and experiencing this as well. He watched as he danced with her for the first few moments before turning back around to enjoy his drink and perhaps check out a few men at the bar. It was alright to look but not touch. As for Nines, the android found that he leaned more towards men but liked women as well. Gavin on the other hand, enjoyed men only.

Despite Nines being bisexual oriented, he knew Nines was all his. Having him experiment with both sides was fine by him. So as long as he was the one in his bed tonight. Gavin took another swig of whiskey but it was short. Funny, his drinks were hitting awfully hard tonight. He placed the glass down onto the bar and swallowed the mouthful with a raised eyebrow and curse.

Well, maybe it was because he was drinking on an empty stomach. But then again, this was his second drink. Even if it was on an empty stomach, he would have only been buzzed. He purposely drank slow for this reason. His stomach churned and a sour expression came to his face.

“Hey, I’ll be back alright?” He told the bartender. “Just powdering my nose.” The guy tipped his head in acknowledgment and went back to pouring drinks. Gavin stepped off the stool, not noticing another man at the end of the bar step away as well.

Stumbling on the tilting ground, feeling the pounding bass of the electric song playing all too much, weaving through the swimming people, Gavin made his way towards the bathroom. What was just a rowdy Friday night at a local bar had turned into a night at a mirror house at a carnival.

He was no longer having fun. He pushed open the door to the bathroom, putting his whole weight into his hand and stumbled inside. Once there, he placed a hand to his forehead and groaned. The door closed muffling the rowdy sounds from the bar. He was getting dizzier. His thoughts weren’t coherent. Was he sleeping? Was he standing? Was he sitting? “What tha...?” He slurred.

The door opened again and Gavin turned around towards the distorted sound. He raised a hand in a halfhearted wave and smiled at the opposite shadow.

He went to speak an apology about the room being occupied at the moment but the shadow took him by his forearms and shoved the side of his face into the tiled wall, leaving his back bare to him before he had the chance to attempt the apology.

His mind was too cloudy and foggy to comprehend what was happening. Not even common sense made sense. What his mind tried to comprehend fizzled into sleepy blank thoughts. Deep down he knew something was definitely, absolutely wrong but whatever coated that worry was too thick to fight through.

He didn’t protest when a hand reached around him, groping his cock in hand. An involuntary shiver - one of the wrong kind - shot down his spine. He whimpered, trying to inch

away from the touch. It was bad. This was bad but the force behind him was stronger, or he was just too weak to fight back.

“We’re going to have a good time you and I.” The voice rumbled in his ear. Gavin tried to turn away but he was firmly planted into the cold wall.

The hand around him smoothed along his hardening length - body betraying him. He...he didn’t want this...

Behind him, the sound of a belt being fumbled echoed in his mind. He didn’t register it. Whatever blanket that fell over his eyes was thicker and clouded. He closed his eyes, mouth barely open to allow shallow slow breaths into his chest.

A murmur of sick sweet nothings. “God, I knew you had a big cock the moment I saw you.”

The body pressed closer into his. The sound of music flooding his ear. Something rigid poking into his ass, pressing harder, desperate. A door closing again.

And then...then nothing. The weight pressed into him was gone and Gavin slid to his knees with his head still pressed against the wall. Limply, he turned onto his ass to sit and looked up.

Another shadow loomed in front of him, heavily panting, fists by his sides and shaking. Nines stood before him in all his fearsome glory, LED at war with itself, fighting between red and yellow.

Against the back wall he wished it wasn’t what he was seeing. But, this was the reality that tonight had become. From fun to sickening filth .

He charged forward wordlessly, the fury, the absolute hatred and disgust for the thing before him taking over. All he saw was red.

He wanted to see another kind of red. His hand took a fistful of the rapists’ hair and ripped him off of Gavin, throwing him against the bathroom sink and mirror with a roar. The sound of glass shattering, porcelain and bone cracking, crashed and echoed in the bathroom. He turned, facing the human as he fell to the ground limply. Hot delicious satisfaction rose in his chest upon the color he desired seeping from the human.

But it wasn’t enough. Nothing would be enough. The hells that Nines had in store for this pathetic excuse of a sentient creature before him would never be enough .

He wanted to tear him piece by piece, limb from limb and hear him beg. How dare he target his love? How dare he try to-!

Behind him, a meek, timid sound rose from Gavin’s throat. He turned around quickly and found tears to be prickling at the corners of his eyes.

He was quick to stoop down in front of him and hold his face ever so gently as if he were glass.

A quick scan proved that he was alright, despite the drunken stupor that the drugs had him under. His human tried to speak but a slurred version of his name and eyebrows pinching in confusion was all he could muster.

Nines nodded, though remained silent. Even if he didn’t want to, he looked down just in case anything had indeed happened. He needed to know. Thankfully, his pants were still zipped and secure. But, he was aroused against his will, anything further-he couldn’t bear the thought, causing him to hiss in anger. Gently, he took Gavin by under his arms and hefted him into a nearby stall. He sat him on the

toilet and leaned him up against the wall as carefully as he could. At least here he would be safe. “I’ll come back for you.” He murmured the promise before closing the door gently.

“But first...” His tone darkened, turning towards the sound of broken mirror crunching across tile. The human still had fight in him.

He barely could get onto his hands and knees. “What the fuck?!” He looked up, gritting his teeth in anger. Blood poked through his clothing and dripped from his nose and hairline where the sparkling shards were embedded in his scalp.

Good. He ignored his questions. Demanding answers from him was the least of his worries. Should have been anyhow. Nines took the remaining bounds between him with angry purpose. Before the human could recover or make a move to rush him, Nines stood firm, forcing a right hook downward into his face. As his head was turned away from the blow, he took him by a fistful of hair yet again. The shout of pain was all the android needed to shove his hand into his mouth and pull back. He yanked him back onto his ass, drool sputtering from the corners of his mouth as he shouted and clawed at his hand.

Nines kicked his arm, nose scrunching at the force he needed to use to rid of his oh so futile struggles. “Behave.” He ordered over the screams of pain, his voice coming from somewhere deep within his throat and chest. His hand fell away limply, arm broken irregularly.

With that, he turned, dragging him out of the bathroom by his upper jaw, leaving Gavin behind in the safety of the stall.

The hectic kicks and screams of pain were futile, comical, and pathetic. Now traveling through the bar, glances that were earned. First at Nines and then down at the human who’s pants slid to his ankles as he dragged him, revealing that his underwear was tented. Purposely slowly, he dragged him, revealing the crimes we was going to commit to those around him.

He looked ahead of himself with determination, face sculpted in that of emotionless neutrality. No one dared to intervene his version of justice. And if anyone did, they too would end up in the unstoppable storm that was he himself.

What he wanted to do to this human need not of prying eyes. So, when he finally made it to the back door, he kicked it open, the cool night air prickling his skin, he looked down to the human in disinterest before it was twisted into a grimace of strain as he hefted and hacked him out into the alleyway. Pained screeches left him as he tumbled, his arm flopping uselessly. He came to a stop against the opposite building. Nines closed the door oh so casually as he listened to the entertaining tune of rightful human suffering. He turned towards the man and began his prowl. Hunched over, breathing raggedly, he cradled his jaw. The android stopped just before him, silent, dangerous, anger rolling off of him. His hands flicked anxiously by his sides. In the darkness, his LED bled a different sort of red.

“Get up.” He ordered. His unwavering stance was shadowed by a flickering street lamp just nearby. Shadows danced over his darkening expression.

With no choice in the matter, the human struggled to do so, “L-look man, I didn’t-I didn’t know that-!”

Nines ticked his head to the side. “You would get caught?” He finished coolly, though his voice wavered with uncontrollable rage. Watching him attempt to pull his pants up with one good hand satisfied the sick side of him. Nines took a menacing step forward, hand

pushing the side of his face into the harsh brick. How he wished to drag it downward and grate his soft flesh against the porous surface. He entertained the idea but it wasn’t good enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

A sudden yell in protest and sobs that sprung from his lips caught him out of his thoughts. He ticked his head in interest.

“I don’t want you to beg.” He tossed his head aside, releasing the pressure from his face. Nines took a step back.

The human stumbled and leaned against the wall, cradling his cheek. He looked up. “Fuckin’ bastard!”

He flung a careless fist and Nines easily caught it in his hand. He twisted his wrist harshly. Not enough force to snap it, not yet, but enough for it to strain. “Oh?” A sudden right hook was delivered. A tooth was knocked free from the blow. Blood trickled over his knuckles, the white plastimetal showing through honey skin. He pushed him back uninterested and bored. “Fight.”

He snarled, cupping the blood that poured from his mouth. A messy cry of pain and frustration left the human. It was beautifully pathetic. He reached out to punch him again. Nines bared his teeth, taking his arm and twisting it downward, effectively dislocating his shoulder. He dropped him to the ground circling around him, like a shark with its prey.

“I said fight.” Hissed breaths were taken through his teeth as blood dribbled to the ground in a long string. “I can’t!”

“Oh? Just like your victims then...?” The best punishment was sick, unapologetic irony. The memory of his Gavin so small and scared pressed up against the disgusting tile of the wall, disoriented and confused.

His partner. His love. Anyone would be helpless and the being who caused such a delusional state for their own twisted fucked up pleasures would be punished accordingly.

The human looked up, his angered and broken face highlighted by shadowed light. “Fuckin’ android, what’s he to you?!” Blood mixed with spit splattered over his chin as he garbled out his words.

He was everything. The reason why he was deviant, the reason he smiled, the reason he came home to a warm bed beside him, the reason for his job, the reason for warmth and embraces, the reason to live, the reason to take a bullet without a second guess, the reason he fought to protect innocents, the reason to love, the reason to fight the reason-!

Everything.

Nines snapped. He planted a foot on his back and shoved him into the ground. His hands curled into fists by his side, shadows flicked over his darkening expression.

“You wouldn’t care. You wouldn’t understand . Couldn’t comprehend why because of how sick and melted your pathetic mind is. How disgusting and desperate you are for something that is only a fraction of what makes you human.” His eyebrows pinched together, scrutinizing the bug pinned to the wax that was below him. “No, you’re not human are you?”

And neither was he for this moment at least.

The human began to curse and fumble words that only an unintelligent hell-warped mind could produce. Enough. Nines dropped his foot, only to deliver the finishing blow. His foot cracking across the side of his head sent the man into unconsciousness. He took a step back and observed his work. Took sick pride in it. With a sneer of contempt, he looked away.

Whoever would find him wouldn’t know what happened. And he doubt the man could go to the police and confess. No one would believe such an aloof, controlled and accurate police android such as himself could perform such a brutal punishment.

Of course not. And that is what made him dangerous. Curiously, he looked down to his hands and body and then was on his way into the bar. The scene behind was forgotten. The worried glances sent his way were ignored. His knuckles were broken and bleeding blue, splotched with red against the white of his chassis. Only some blood splatter saturated his clothing and neck.

They did not matter so as long as he fulfilled his promise undisturbed and went back for Gavin. The night out was promptly ended. He brought him home.

When Gavin woke up, his mind was bleary and filled with cotton. Had he passed out? Did he get drunk last night? He didn’t remember much and when he tried to remember, he only recalled Nines running off with an android and then things got blurry.

Did he go home with her? Did he end up with someone? He finally opened his eyes and sat up and regretted doing so instantly. His head pounded and his stomach lurched violently. His eyebrows creased together in pain as he dug the heel of his hand into his eye. Curious enough he found it crusted over as if he had been crying.

Finally noticing the shadow that loomed next to him, he looked over and found the still form of Nines sitting on the edge of the bed.

“N-Nines?” He called out, his voice cracking. He cleared it, cringing as he swallowed sandpaper and tried calling him again.

There was no response from the android sitting next to him. Gavin blinked a few more times and swallowed thickly. His mouth was dry as fuck and his body felt heavy. His stomach felt raw and so did his throat. It was dry and raspy.

“Nines, I...don’t...?” Nine refused to look at him and Gavin couldn’t understand why. He tried following his gaze that led out the window but there was nothing. He leaned forward, the light of the room and the darkness outside allowing him to see his reflection of a face that portrayed no emotion. A red LED burned in the night.

“What happened?” He rasped. His stomach felt sick, if not a little heavy. He had never seen his android like this before.

That was a lie. Once and only once had he seen his android shut down like this. “Aw fuck..” He groaned, getting out of bed to sit at the edge next to his android.

He held his stomach and exhaled loudly and even then, Nines still didn’t move. “C’mon Tin Can, talk....” Gavin had enough of the silent treatment. He leaned forward, “I don’t know how to fix ya if you don’t fucking...” His voice cut out upon noticing the state of his android a bit closer. “...talk.” He finished lamely. His vision may have been blurry but the unmistakable color of red didn’t just come from his LED, it was across his clothing and skin as well.

Nines continues to not look at Gavin, a distant look in his eyes & Gavin glanced down to see Nines’ knuckles were white, the chassis beneath having blue seeping through the cracks.

Slowly, not knowing if Nines was an animal that could strike at any moment, he moved his hands forward and gently gripped onto the android’s own, damaged hands, swiping a thumb over the broken surface of his knuckles.

And still even then, the android didn’t react. What the actual fuck happened and why couldn’t he remember? Why was his android locked up like this. What happened?!

Gavin had to try another approach. He moved towards him shakily, cupping his jaw. “H-hey?” Nothing.

Why didn’t he clean himself off? Did Gavin beat someone up, did he- “ What happened ?” This time he begged. But as soon as Nines finally looked at him...

Oh. Oh God... He remembered now and the memory caused him to close his eyes and bite his tongue from truly losing his stomach. The android moved quite suddenly, startling him. Before he could react, he realized slowly that Nines was holding him close in a desperate and long embrace. It caught him off guard but fuck, did he need it. He was almost...almost-

“N-Nines? Christ. Oh, Christ I’m so sorry...” The human attempted to push him away to look him in the eye. To assess a starting point to where they could continue. To soothe, to cry, to yell. Anything. He wanted to know the story after he was out. After the drugs had taken him over. What... What became of the guy that tried to take him?

He felt his android begin to shiver against the desperate hold, reluctant and refusing to let go of him. The hold made his ribs and bones crack but Gavin gave up trying to pull away. “I-I’m here-”

There was a long silence, LED blinking red as Nines finally spoke. A barely there rasp in his ear, “I could have lost you.. I-I couldn’t lose you. I can’t .”

Gavin felt disconnected with the world in that moment, but he tried his damndest. He didn’t have to be face to face with the android to sooth the visible distress he was in. “Nines, baby, I-I’m okay- I’m okay. You got me. You got me...” Gavin mumbled, interrupting Nines’ own ramblings. He couldn’t quite figure out if he was convincing Nines or himself but neither were believing his bullshit words anyhow.

Even though he was fucking terrified & Nines was too, holding each other was all that was left to do. Not to mention Nines’ ability to scan & see Gavin was fucking petrified of what could have happened if Nines didn’t get there quick enough.

Finally, after a long moment, Nines pulled back and held Gavin’s face gently. Silver eyes flicked over his human before they locked with him. If this were any other moment, Gavin would confess just how much he loved him.

“I don’t want you to know.” He murmured. “I don’t want you to know. But know that nothing happened to you and I found you in time.”

“And what about you?” He brought his hand to his forearms, gripping them tightly. “What the hell happened?

Nines shook his head, muttering barely above a whisper. “Irrelevant.”

Whatever had happened clearly wasn't fucking irrelevant but Gavin was too hazy & tired to bother putting up a fight for answers. That could wait for later on, after the world stopped spinning and his stomach stopped curling in on itself.

There was a darkness in the android that held him so dearly as if his life depended on it, and, maybe it did. But, he supposed that it didn't matter. If Nines had said nothing had happened to him he believed him. He was grateful for his protection. No matter what Nines had done.

#Whumptober2019 #no.21 #Laced Drink #Attempted rape #Date rape #Date rape drug #violence #blood #DBH #Detroit become human #Gavin Reed #Nines #RK900

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